Five Years Before
by littleredfez
Summary: Sherlock had known DI Lestrade for five years before he met Dr. Watson. How did they meet? And why was Sherlock such a cold man? - Rated M for eventual M/M. Slightly AU. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** None of the characters are ours, we just delight in playing with them. Original characters credited to ACD and these incarnations to Moffat and Gatiss.

**A/N:** This story came about through a chat with a friend via Facebook, you can find her at **luvmyangelofmusic.** This whole story is a chat in which we were creating, in our minds, how DI Lestrade and Sherlock first met, so although beta'd, some tenses may be a little off. It is set during the five years before the first series of 'Sherlock' is set. We have taken some liberties with certain bits and pieces, but otherwise it is pretty much in keeping with the basics. We've tried to keep Sherlock and Lestrade in character, but some scenes are slightly OOC with the current Sherlock. This is a WIP.

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><p>The house was small and derelict. DI Lestrade and his team approached cautiously, the warning had been that the house was occupied by drug addicts. He opened the door and walked forward gun ready.<p>

In the corner was a small huddled figure. He approached it cautiously; the figure was a young boy high, on cocaine by the looks. He was pale and thin with obvious signs of food deprivation and his eyes were partially obscured by a mess of black curls.

Lestrade signaled to his team who came and picked up the boy who, now uncurled, was quite tall and lanky. Lestrade grimaced as he looked at him. The boy's ribs were obvious and his arms showed habitual drug use. Lestrade followed his team as they led the boy out to the ambulance.

He rode in the ambulance with the boy, hoping to gain some information from him. Soon the boy was regaining consciousness.

"What is your name?" Lestrade asked in a calm clear voice.

The boy stared at him, un-focused for a few seconds before replying.

"Sherlock Holmes."

Lestrade watched him as Sherlock suddenly attempted to escape from the bonds holding him to the stretcher. Lestrade swiftly seized him forcing Sherlock back down, "careful there you have to take it easy."

Sherlock eyed him warily.

"Your the DI Lestrade from Scotland Yard." It was not a question.

"You've recently risen to the position. That badge is shiny. Nobody shines badges these days. You have shaving cream behind your left ear, so you live alone and have nobody to point it out."

Lestrade was stunned as he looked at Sherlock.

"How did you know that?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It was obvious, honestly."

The ambulance pulled up at the hospital and Sherlock was quickly rushed in, leaving a confused and stunned Lestrade in his wake. Lestrade slowly followed him, conflicted. He knew it was his duty as DI to arrest Sherlock… no, Mr. Holmes, for elicit drug use but he couldn't bear to let that mind, that astounding, brilliant mind go to waste. He met up with his team that had raided the house earlier in the evening.

"All in all, three druggies in one night"

Lestrade sighed and let his head fall into his hands. Three people who had thrown their lives away for a simple hit. Lestrade got wearily to his feet and almost unconsciously walked to where Sherlock was being kept. A man who held an umbrella at his side occupied the room; he and Mr. Holmes appeared to be having a row so Lestrade stood awkwardly outside the room trying hard not to eavesdrop.

"Sherlock what do you think you are doing to yourself! Why are you throwing all your gifts, your mind away so carelessly?"

"I am dead Mycroft, I need to feel alive, to stop being bored!"

The man named Mycroft sighed and left twiddling the umbrella. Lestrade walked in, Sherlock was lying propped up in a hospital bed. He seemed almost lost amongst all the fabric. Clothed in only a hospital gown, Lestrade could see how thin his wrists were. Sherlock slowly woke and stared groggily at Lestrade.

"Why are you here?"

"Because I have to be Sherlock."

"You have to arrest me, don't you, when I'm out of here."

"Yes I do I'm sorry."

Sherlock said nothing but stared intently at the ceiling. Lestrade shuffled uncomfortably.

"Look, I think you're actually a good guy Sherlock and I want to help you, do you have any family I can contact?"

At that Sherlock stopped looking at the ceiling and fixed Lestrade with an icy stare.

"I have no family"

"Why did you do this, I know I can see that you're clever, why risk your mind and everything you have for a simple fix?"

"You have no idea what it's like. My mind is like a car speeding out of control, tearing itself to pieces. Cocaine slows it, lets me once again have control."

"Don't you have any other method to control your mind?" Lestrade asks, confused.

"My mind needs puzzles, without them my brain rots"

Sherlock finished dramatically fisting his black curls and flopping back onto his pillows theatrically.

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><p>Reviews are more than welcome! More to come soon!<p>

**littleredfez & luvmyangelofmusic**


	2. Chapter 2

**A WEEK LATER**

Lestrade slapped on the handcuffs as Sherlock was released from hospital. He put him in the back of the police car. Sherlock was silent the entire journey to the jail. Lestrade gave him an apologetic look as he pulled Sherlock out and led him up to the door. After he was processed, Lestrade locked him in a solitary cell and left for his office

'_Why?'_ Lestrade muttered to himself as he saw the other inmates eyeing Sherlock through the bars.

"Who's the new guy?" The prison warden asked Lestrade.

"Sherlock Holmes. Drug addict."

"Well I'd watch out for him, he's too pretty for prison"

The warden left Lestrade to his thoughts.

Sherlock lay curled under the cheap prison blanket on his small bed. He could hear the other prisoners around him and did his best to ignore them and sleep.

"Hey gorgeous, get that ass over here"

He shuddered and tried to shut it all out.

**NEXT DAY**

Lestrade was pacing, frustrated. The case was going cold and he had no leads. He left his office and walked around hoping to clear his head. He ran into Detective Sally Donovan

"Any leads?"

"None yet sir"

"What about the second body, anything?"

Sherlock could clearly hear the two of them discussing the case. He had read about it when he was sober and lucid. Something clicked into place and he jumped up excitedly.

"Inspector!"

Lestrade turned to see Sherlock up and excited. He walked over to him.

"Yes?"

"The stepmother did it."

"What?" Lestrade was very confused.

"The stepmother murdered the two sons for their estate"

Both Lestrade and Sally were silent.

Sherlock looked at their vacant expressions and sighed, exasperated.

"It's obvious, don't you see!"

Lestrade recovered first, glancing quickly at Sherlock

"How can you possibly know that?"

Sally looked at Lestrade like he was crazy,

"Sir we can't take the word of a prisoner!"

Lestrade ignored Donovan; he was too focused on Sherlock.

Sherlock looked smug as he began to explain it to Lestrade.

"Isn't it obvious, the bodies were found somewhere only someone with a key could have gotten to. There was no sign of forced entry so it was someone they knew and trusted. The only person then that they would trust, who had access to the key and who would stand to gain anything after they were dead, was the stepmother."

Donovan couldn't believe what she was doing; her boss was mad, so she got up and left. Lestrade left Sherlock after hurriedly thanking him, he ran out to his team.

"Come on we have a murder to solve!"

"Sir do you think it's wise to take the word of a prisoner. How the hell can we trust him?"

Lestrade didn't reply.

"Come on, this is a lead. Lets go get the bastard."

They pulled up at the stepmother's home and arrested her; she gave a full confession to her crimes.

Lestrade returned later, alone, all the other officers had gone home. He went to Sherlock's cell and found him awake staring blankly.

"Umm,"

He begins awkwardly, Sherlock looks up at him, getting up and wandering over

"Sherlock I would like to thank you for your help on the case, we wouldn't be able to solve it without you"

Sherlock grins

"I knew you wouldn't, that's why I spoke up"

Lestrade can't help himself, he grins back, "no need to get cocky now."

But Lestrade can't help himself. He smiles affectionately at Sherlock.

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><p>R&amp;R is much appreciated!<p>

**littleredfez & luvmyangelofmusic**


	3. Chapter 3

**MONTH LATER**

Lestrade was walking down the main street of London. He wasn't on duty and for once was just enjoying the night air and the bustle of people around him.

He spied the park and headed for a favorite park bench. As he got closer he saw a figure, tall and lanky with a mess of black curls, lying fast asleep wrapped in clothing that had seen better days. "Surely not?" Lestrade muttered to himself, it couldn't be. Lestrade got closer. It was Sherlock Holmes, who he had arrested a month ago for illicit drug use.

"Sherlock what have you done?" he muttered as he shook the young man awake. Sherlock woke with a start.

"Inspector?" He asked confused

"Sherlock what are you doing sleeping on a bench in a park, surely you have a house or somewhere safer?" Lestrade asked incredulously.

Sherlock shook his head.

Lestrade took a pitying look at the man.

"Look, just until you can get a place of your own, come and stay with me."

Sherlock looked puzzled, but when Lestrade smiled and offered him his hand, Sherlock took it gingerly and allowed Lestrade to lead him to his flat.

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><p>Once they were inside the flat Sherlock stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Lestrade locked the door behind them and joined Sherlock in the main living area. "You can take the guest bedroom or the couch, I don't mind. Do you want a drink?"<p>

"No thanks, and I'll just sleep on the couch."

Lestrade made Sherlock up a bed on the couch and left for his own room. Sherlock cautiously lay down on the couch. He could not believe it when he saw Lestrade staring at him on the bench. He saw the pitying look the inspector gave him and knew how pathetic his state must have been. He lay awake on the couch most of the night unable to relax whilst Lestrade lay in his room thinking on the night's events. When he had seen Sherlock on the bench he knew he had to help him. He wasn't going to arrest him this time; he hoped he could get him clean.

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><p><strong>NEXT DAY<strong>

Lestrade woke early and went to check on Sherlock. The man had finally succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep on top of the covers, still fully clothed. Lestrade sighed and went to make tea, leaving Sherlock to sleep. Minutes later, Sherlock woke, startled by the unfamiliar surroundings. Lestrade stopped making tea and went to check on Sherlock who was looking around wide-eyed and nervous.

Lestrade approached him slowly with his hands up in front of him, "it's alright Sherlock, I'm not going to hurt you or arrest you. I want to help." Sherlock relaxed and scooted up the other end of the couch wrapping his arms around his legs protectively. Lestrade took the end that he had vacated and smiled.

"Where do you live?"

Sighing Sherlock looked up at Lestrade.

"Nowhere okay, I'm homeless, happy?" suddenly Sherlock was hostile, "I'm a homeless drug addicted freak that nobody cares about!"

Lestrade looked sadly at the young man in front of him. He had clearly suffered nothing but abuse all his life, nobody to tell him that he was worth something, that he was amazing. Lestrade resolved to change that.

"Sherlock I know that you have had people who are meant to treat you right let you down. But I won't, I promise." Lestrade held out his hand for Sherlock to shake, he sensed that Sherlock wasn't one who was big on touch. Sherlock took his hand and shook it nervously.

"So do you want breakfast?" Lestrade asked getting up.

"Yes thank you," Sherlock hadn't eaten in over a week, lingering in a drug and alcohol haze stupor up until he crashed the day prior. Lestrade made some eggs and bacon watching Sherlock out of the corner of his eye.

Sherlock was thin. Thinner than last time Lestrade had seen him, "Sherlock you do remember to eat right?" Sherlock looks at Lestrade, trying not to betray yet another fault of his. But Lestrade had guessed the truth and sighed, "are you trying to slowly kill yourself?" Sherlock doesn't say anything; embarrassed that he has so many faults. He nods slightly, recoiling slightly.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, you have been let down by everyone in your life and you're still alive. Yes, the drug taking is regrettable, but you're the most intelligent and genuinely amazing person I have ever met!" Sherlock doesn't know what to say, or think for that matter. It had been such a long time since anybody had complimented him. For that matter, it had been a long time since anybody had _chosen_ to spend time with him. Lestrade turned around, saying nothing more, and returned to making breakfast. Sherlock follows Lestrade into the kitchen; he may as well be a polite guest and eat the food he has been served, irrespective of whether he feels the need to eat.

Lestrade served Sherlock a large amount of food and sat down with him, starting to eat. Sherlock sighed. Picking up his cutlery he begins to eat the large plate of food, realizing he was ravenous. They didn't talk much as they ate; Lestrade was more interested in Sherlock eating than making polite conversation.

Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock had finished and was satisfied. Despite this, he realised that he wouldn't be feeling too well later. After all, depriving yourself of food for so long and suddenly binging didn't have good effects on him. Lestrade had gone into his room to get dressed and have a shower; despite his worry for Sherlock he did have a job to get to. Sherlock just sat at the table, unsure what to do next. So he patiently waited until Lestrade returned. Lestrade returned a short time later, dressed and ready for work,

"Sorry Sherlock I have to go to the station. Will you be alright?"

"You don't want me to stay here do you detective? I can't stay here, I'm a complete stranger!" Sherlock remarked giving Lestrade an odd look.

"Of course you can stay here Sherlock, I don't mind, honestly!"

Sherlock was still unsure, but it was clear that Lestrade didn't want him out on the streets, a sense of care in his tone. Sherlock agrees, with hesitation. Lestrade smiles and leaves for work. Sherlock is hesitant, but figures he may as well shower and make himself comfortable, catch up on long lost sleep.

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><p>As Lestrade drove to work, his mind was consumed by the young man back at his flat. Something about Sherlock intrigued him and he felt a need to protect him.<p>

Sherlock feels surprisingly comfortable in Detective Inspector Lestrade's flat; at least so comfortable that he has no qualms helping himself to food, tea and exploring a little. He takes the opportunity to attempt to resurrect his clothing, padding around in a toweling gown he found in Lestrade's bathroom. Sherlock still wondered, though, why Lestrade trusted Sherlock in his flat for a day, considering that he knew very little about the mysterious twenty-something. Sherlock, on the other hand, was able to deduce quite a lot about the Detective. He knew that the forty-three-year-old Detective was recently divorced, not recent enough for it to be visible in the state of the flat, appearing lived in and settled, but recent enough for him to have leftovers - still not used to cooking for one. Sherlock also knew that the Detective has no predisposition towards a specific sexual status, having had relationships with numerous men and women since his sexual awakening. As much as Sherlock wanted to continue with his interior monologue listing in his usual conceited tone his clever deductions, he stopped himself, strangely wanting to learn of Lestrade's life from the man himself, not from impersonal deductions. These were indeed very strange circumstances.

Sherlock washed and dried his clothing, managing to clean up the pieces to reasonable standards, but he would need to procure some new clothing soon if he was going to 'live' again. He also shaved and trimmed his hair as best as he could so he looked a little less like a homeless person. Once he was clean and presentable, Sherlock decided he'd catch up on some sleep before the D.I. returned, it being after midday by this time. His lack of sleep over the past fortnight was apparently catching up with him.

Sherlock doesn't wake again until the Detective arrives home at nine o'clock that evening, carrying with him takeaway, Chinese by the look. He pulls himself up, rubbing his eyes wearily. He could do with sleeping for another forty-eight hours, to be honest, but he cannot impose upon the Detective for too long.

Lestrade smiled when he saw that Sherlock had gotten some sleep, he desperately looked like he needed some.

"Chinese," he placed the takeaway on the table and fetched some plates and cutlery, starting to dish out the Chinese, handing a plate to Sherlock and sitting down to eat his own. Lestrade watched Sherlock as they ate in silence. The younger man was a mystery, Lestrade knew next to nothing about him.

The food was good. Very good. And even Sherlock could not deny that he was very hungry still. He was still at a loss for why the Detective was letting him into his home. Lestrade sensed Sherlock's anxiety. He stopped eating and looked at him.

"Sherlock, I know you probably don't trust me right now but I'm willing to let you stay here until you get on your feet. You're a good kid and I don't want you to throw everything away," Sherlock looked up to meet Lestrade's eyes.

"Thank you Detective, but I don't quite understand why you would take me in? Oh, and I'm 28 - I realize I look a lot younger than I am"

"Right, apologies. And to answer your question, because you don't have anyone else to stop you from destroying yourself, so it looks like that has to be me."

Sherlock is taken aback, but can't deny that he is willing to let the older man help. "Thank you – I mean, I've been estranged from my brother for so long that I haven't had someone who's willing to help me for the last ten years."

Lestrade gets up and wraps an arm slowly and comfortingly around Sherlock's thin shoulders, not saying anything but silently hugging the man. Sherlock tenses to begin with, but soon relaxes into Lestrade's touch. He turns and wraps his arms around Lestrade's waist, nuzzling his stomach, silent tears falling down his cheeks. Lestrade wraps both arms around Sherlock and cradles his body against his, he pretends to ignore the tears, as he slowly strokes Sherlock's hair, letting him cry. Sherlock very rarely let his defenses down, but it had been so long since anybody had comforted him. After a good 10 minutes he pulled away, wiping his eyes. Lestrade released him watching him carefully, "are you alright?" Sherlock nodded, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

"I'm fine, really," He managed to stutter out, his voice still hitched from crying. Lestrade nodded.

"I can make up the guest bedroom for you if you'd prefer that to the couch. I know it can't be very comfortable."

"Honestly, I don't want to impose on your space or your privacy. But if you insist, I will take the spare room. I am exceeding grateful, although it never really occurred to me to try and find a home, rather than the streets."

"You didn't grow up on the streets though, surely you have a home you can go to that's got to be safer than the parks?" Lestrade looks at Sherlock questioningly.

"I grew up in a wealthy family. We lived in Essex. We had all we wanted lavished on us. My brother is just as bright as me and is 7 years my senior. But my parents did not treat me well, despite the luxury of our living. It got to a point where I needed an escape and saw no need for the lavishness of our living, hence I became homeless and indulged myself in cocaine. Keeps to boredom at bay."

Lestrade looked at the bright grey-blue eyes, they were so alight with life and brilliance. How could his own parents hate him?

"What about your brother, doesn't he try to help at all?"

"He does, but he is overprotective and overbearing. He works in the government. No doubt he knows where I am right now. We have a strained relationship at best."

"Alright. Well, goodnight Sherlock," Lestrade led Sherlock into the guest room and left him to go to bed. There was a pair of pajamas on the end of the bed which he slipped into before sliding under the fluffy duvet into the comfiest bed he'd slept in a long while. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep. Lestrade walked into his own room, he changed into his pajamas and slid into bed. "Bloody hell," he mumbled as he too fell asleep.

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><p><strong>littleredfez &amp; luvmyangelofmusic<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**NEXT DAY**

Lestrade woke at his usual early time; he got up and went to make breakfast. Sherlock awoke quite early also, his body ready to start the day. He was a little bewildered, once again, by his surroundings, and judging by the duvet half off the bed and himself being wrapped in the double bed sheet, he was very restless during the night. He unwraps himself and pads his way to the kitchen to find Lestrade making breakfast in his pajamas. Lestrade hears him get up and turns to smile, "good morning Sherlock, sleep well?"

"Mmm, yes thanks. Haven't slept in a proper bed for three hundred and ninety two days. Was lovely, thank you." Lestrade blinks but quickly recovers himself, "right well."

He hands Sherlock breakfast. Sherlock looks at the breakfast. More food. _Oh well,_ he thinks to himself, _can't hurt._ He takes the plate from the Detective and makes his way to the table.

"Thank you Detective Inspector, I haven't been this well fed or had this much food in a very long time. I am very grateful."

"Yeah the thin limbs and the fact that you look like you were about to faint might have tipped me off about that," Sherlock frowns.

"Yes," but Lestrade smiles, "you're not the first drug addict on the street I've seen and definitely not the worst"

"Hmm, I know. But I'm hardly attractive, being so skinny and pale. The state of my clothing doesn't help either."

Lestrade is silent. _Hardly attractive? _That was not, he realized with a start, how he thought of Sherlock. Mentally shaking himself of those thoughts he looks at Sherlock, "well I'm sure I can get you some new clothes."

"No need to worry, Detective, I have funds I can draw on, I just choose not to. How else do you think I would be able to afford cocaine? I am not partial to trading favours for drugs. But if you would come with me to buy the clothes," Sherlock stuttered, "I would like that… I mean… uh… the company."

Lestrade grins. "Of course, it's been awhile since I've been shopping with anyone. Oh, and call me Greg, please."

"Yes, right. I guess it was a bit awkward me calling you detective all the time! Greg it is then! But… uh… don't you have work?" Sherlock _wanted_ Greg to come with him, his opinion could well prove important when it came to the clothes Sherlock wore. Maybe not so much on the price tag though.

"I'm on two days leave, they had to pay me overtime on the last case and so have given me time off"

"Well that's okay then. Didn't want you to take time off just to look after a recovering homeless drug user." Sherlock felt ashamed, more so than before.

"Why do you always think so little of yourself Sherlock?" Greg asked as he walked over to him.

"Because I am used to others doing the same. I am weathered to it."

"Well I am not one of those people. I do actually think you are worth something, anyone who says differently is a fool"

Sherlock can feel a brush creep up his neck and flourish at his cheeks. "Thanks... I guess" Sherlock said hesitantly. "I'll just… uh… go get dressed now." He wandered off to the guest room, not looking back at Greg. It could not be that he had _feelings _for Greg, or vise versa for that matter!

Greg didn't move from his spot in the kitchen. He was stunned. Could it be that Sherlock felt_ that way?_ About him? He wasn't completely sure he felt _that_ way; he was certainly fond of Sherlock, and protective, but _that?_

Sherlock got dressed slowly, mulling over the idea of his and Greg's _feelings._ At least once he had some new clothes he would be able to look for somewhere to live. Having thought that, though, Sherlock was not sure he wanted to leave.

Greg got up and went to get dressed. He knew that soon Sherlock would be moving out and finding his own place. _But do I want him to leave?_ Greg thought. He had to admit to himself, he didn't want Sherlock to go.

Sherlock emerged from the guest room ten minutes later to find Greg leaning against the kitchen counter, tapping away on his phone. Greg looked up when Sherlock entered and smiled, "ready to go?"

"Uh, yeah…sure"

They made their way out of the flat, Greg hailing a cab as soon as they got outside. It pulled up to the curve and he opened the door for Sherlock. "Thanks, Greg." Sherlock sat on the far side of the cab.

"Brompton Road," Sherlock instructs the driver.

Greg nods and relaxes back into the cab. He noticed how far Sherlock sat from him u the cab_, still nervous about physical contact_ he thought. Greg used the silent cab ride to analyze his feelings for Sherlock. He was definitely attracted to the young man. He had always known that he was bisexual, but he was worried that if he made his feelings known to the younger man that he would scare him away.

Meanwhile Sherlock was surprised that Greg did not question their destination. Brompton Rd. was the upper class shopping district, home to Harrods and surrounded by brand name boutiques. Sherlock could almost _hear_ Greg's thoughts whizzing away inside his head. Greg's breath caught slightly when he saw the shops they had stopped at. Sherlock certainly had taste.

"Where to first then?" he asked having paid the driver. Sherlock nodded to Harrods, knowing they had the shirts he liked.

"I've always shopped in this area, having come from a wealthy family. I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

They passed the guards at the entrance to Harrods and swiftly made their way to the men's section. "Its not that, its just unexpected," Greg replies following Sherlock into Harrods, he can't help himself from staring around having never stepped foot there. Greg accompanies Sherlock to the men's section as he starts to look at clothing. "Okay then," Sherlock replies as he casually walks over to Dolce and Gabana shirts.

"What do you think," he asks Greg, holding up a deep blue silk shirt. "These are the cut I usually buy."

Greg is momentarily speechless. The shirt is a stark contrast against Sherlock's alabaster skin. "I think it looks good. Maybe try it on to make sure it fits..." Greg adds awkwardly trying hard not to appear obvious to the younger man. Sherlock nods and walks over to the shop assistant. He's then ushered into a changing room where he changes swiftly into the blue shirt. Once changed he walks out to the full-length mirror, admiring the colour and cut.

Greg is speechless as he sees Sherlock in the shirt. _Christ get a hold of yourself_ he mutters. Sherlock can see Greg's expression, "so, you approve?" Sherlock chuckles.

"Uh..Yes..yes it looks..um...good," Greg finishes, blushing.

Sherlock smiles and retreats back to the changing room, redressing. He walks back out to Greg "Care to help me choose some other colours?"

"Sure" Greg replies, though he is internally shaking at the thought.

They pick out three more shirts, a lighter blue striped shirt, a white shirt and a dark red shirt. Once they sorted that out Sherlock moved on to suits. "What type of suit do you think Greg? I'd quite fancy buying two."

Greg runs a critical eye over the many suits and finds a dark black one he holds it up for Sherlock. "What do you think?"

"Hmm.. lovely. You have an eye for tailoring. I like a slim legged suit." Sherlock proceeds to try the suit on, as well as another, a velvet suit.

Greg is still unsure what to do, so he stands awkwardly trying to pointedly ignore the stares from the sales assistants. Sherlock tried both suits on, walking out of the dressing room to show Greg both. The reactions were good, to say the least. "I'll just grab a scarf and then we can go. I'll need to pop in to the dry cleaners to get my coat cleaned. A present from my brother, but my most favourite belonging."

"Of course" Greg answers, trying to get the image of Sherlock in a velvet suit out of his head. They walk out of Harrods carrying two large suit bags and two other bags containing all of Sherlock's clothing. He was mostly set, just needed to drop off his coat at the dry cleaner down the road.

Greg hailed another cab, he felt slightly bittersweet now. Sherlock would surely be leaving soon.

"You don't mind if I put this stuff in the guest wardrobe do you Greg?" Sherlock asks hesitantly during the cab journey.

"Of course not Sherlock, who's going to use it?"

"Right. I just didn't want to think myself intruding on your space..."

"No, no its nice having a companion again after the divorce...well its nice having companionship. Again."

Sherlock is happy Greg is speaking his thoughts. "I would love that, but please tell me if I get too hard to handle, now that I am well again" Sherlock smiles... a rare occurrence.

"Don't worry I will" Greg laughs.

"Good."

The cab rolls up to Greg's flat, Sherlock pays the driver and they make their way back upstairs. Greg unlocks the flat and helps Sherlock in with the clothes. Sherlock makes to move the clothes to the guest room, quite happy to get himself settled. Greg goes and makes tea. Sherlock is in the middle of hanging up his clothes and arranging his shoes in the wardrobe when Greg knocks on the door.

"Come in"

Greg enters the guest bedroom, standing in the doorway, "Sherlock I was wondering whether you would uh like to join me for lunch later?"

Sherlock turns around, shirt in hand "Of course! I would love that. Call me when you're ready to go, I'll just finish putting this stuff away"

"Okay," Greg nods and turns around walking out of the bedroom, _now where to go_ he mutters. Sherlock smiles as Greg leaves. _Hmmm, he's finally made the first move then. Might as well try on one of these new shirts and suits. _Sherlock goes to get changed into one of his new purchases. Greg changes into a casual shirt and jacket, not owning anything particularly fancy. Sherlock comes out of the guest room at around quarter past twelve. He feels much more human in this clothing, much nicer. "Are we ready Greg?"

"Yes,yes," Greg emerges from the kitchen.

"What type of food do you like Sherlock?"

"Any type of food suits me, as long as it's good"

Greg nods, "Okay I have a place you might like"

* * *

><p>"Hmm, Soho. Looks promising," Sherlock chuckles looking at Greg.<p>

Greg grinned, "You'll love it"

"I'm glad," Sherlock says as the taxi pulls to a halt.

Greg gets out with Sherlock and they walk up to the restaurant. "This looks very nice indeed. Thank you Greg. I haven't been out to eat in a very long time. And when I did dine out it was always at these ridiculous silver service restaurants. I don't care for someone waiting on you hand and foot." Sherlock takes his seat opposite Greg at a window seat.

"Yes well I can hardly sympathise with you"

"I don't expect you to Greg. I must sound rather snobby. I do apologise." Sherlock looks at the menu "So much to choose from, why don't you order me something"

Greg called a waiter over, "Umm We'll have the lamb cutlets with alioli and herb salad, the cured ham and chicken croquettes, hand made goats cheese with honey and pan fried little Galacian peppers thanks."

"Sounds delicious. I hope it is as good as authentic Spanish tapas"

"Will that be all sir, would you like a candle for your date?" the waiter asked.

Sherlock lets out a small giggle, Greg was flustered _what did he say?_ Sherlock can see Greg is flustered "that would be lovely, thank you."

Greg says nothing, still embarrassed.

"A bottle of your house red also thanks, and that will be all for the moment," he waves the man off. " Greg, are you okay, you seem a bit… Uh… flustered."

"Uh...I'm fine...fine..."

"Right. So, I don't know much about you Greg," _lies,_ "tell me about yourself."

"Uh there's not much to know, I've always worked at Scotland Yard and have only just recently got the position of Detective Inspector. My wife has recently left me, not really that much to know I'm quite dull really."

"Not at all Greg!"

"Your life is probably more interesting"

"That is really dependent on what you find interesting. I've told you already most of the important stuff, everything else in rather boring to be quite honest." Sherlock doesn't like talking about himself.

Greg could sense that Sherlock was reluctant to talk so he changed the topic. "So what about I dunno girlfriends, boyfriends?"

"Well it's been a while," he was being honest, "I've had a few, of both, but nothing particularly serious. Lately there's been no-one"

Greg nodded, "Well, my wife left me as you know, I had one boyfriend but that didn't last terribly long"

"Guessed as much" _No, I deduced as much, but…_

Greg smiled, "was I that obvious?"

"You underestimate me Greg, I am able to deduce from the smallest things." Sherlock returned the smile. The waiter brought the food to their table. "Looks delicious."

"Bloody hell" Greg mutters at Sherlock's explanation. "Yes it looks delicious doesn't it."

"No need to be surprised, you remember the leads I gave you whilst I was incarcerated" Sherlock digs into some of the peppers.

"I know, I know, but you never cease to amaze me Sherlock"

"Thank you," Sherlock smiles. Greg tucks into some of the lamb, "This is really good."

"All of it is very tasty, very authentic. I would definitely like to come back. And by the way, thank you for this, it's lovely. You've done so much over the last few days, this was the last thing I expected for you to do."

"What did you expect me to do?" Greg is curious

"I _didn't_ expect you to."

"I did arrest you."

"Yeah, well… that was inevitable, all things considered. But I don't think many Detective Inspector's would take in a drug addict and look after them, unless I'm mistaken"

"No most don't, but I couldn't live with myself leaving you on the streets." Sherlock is puzzled, "why's that then?"

"Because Sherlock quite frankly, I find you quite attractive and think I might have fallen for you" Greg finished looking highly embarrassed, flushed pink.

Sherlock smiles, "well... I wondered when you were going to say something. I sensed you were interested, so to speak. No need to look so flustered." Sherlock places his hand on top of Greg's on the table, gently rubbing it. "It's okay."

Greg let out a breath not realizing he had been holding it, "well that's good to know, thank you Sherlock"

"I'm glad you've calmed down. I must admit that I am attracted to you also, I've felt this since that conversation we had the other day. I just didn't want to make the first move in case I misinterpreted your feelings. I'm not as good with feelings as I am with facts."

"Guess that makes two of us," Greg laughed. He smiled at Sherlock.

"Are we finished eating? I quite fancy a walk in the park if you'd care to join me?"

"Yes that sounds lovely" Greg finished and called the waiter over to pay.

"Its quite a pleasant day out"

"Yes it is isn't it" Greg grinned it was a good day indeed.

"So how long has it been since your divorce? " he hopes he doesn't sound too callous in his questioning.

"A year, found out she was cheating on me"

"Oh... I'm sorry" Sherlock truly was, as much as he wouldn't usually care, Greg was different.

"No, it had been rocky for a while"

"Well I'm glad you seem to have moved on alright."

"Yeah, when you know something isn't working its best to give it up."

"Hmm... Indeed. I'm afraid I cannot empathize, I've never been in any particularly serious relationships"

Greg shrugged, "Doesn't matter." Sherlock turns his suit collar up against the wind. Without his beloved coat the chill tends to be worse. "Would you like to walk back to yours? Or would a cab be better?" Sherlock new full well that either would suffice, having a map of London in his head, but thought he would give Greg the option.

"Cab then tea at the flat, you look cold"

"Sounds lovely" Sherlock hails a cab. Greg climbs in with Sherlock relaxed and content. "Yes, without my coat I'm afraid I freeze in the cold winds"

Greg cautiously pulls Sherlock closer to him in an effort to warm him up. Sherlock stiffens for a second before relaxing into Greg's embrace, "thank you Greg."

Greg gently strokes Sherlock's hair, "it's fine, you're very cuddly you know."

Sherlock is surprised, "I'm all sharp angles, how can I be cuddly!"

Greg laughs, "when you relax all the tension leaves you, you almost look like a child that is just asking to be cuddled. What can I say?"

Sherlock chuckles, "far from a child I'm afraid, but I'm glad you find me cuddly, that's a good trait I guess"

The cab pulls up at Greg's flat; he pays the cabbie and unlocks the flat, stepping back to allow Sherlock to enter.

Sherlock walks up the stairs and into Greg's flat before plonking down on the sofa with a huff. He grabs a rug and pulls it around himself. Greg locks the door and follows Sherlock. He smiles at the sight of Sherlock swamped by the rug.

"What? I'm warm!"

"You just look very funny that's all"

"Point taken" Sherlock smiles at Greg

"Tea?"

"Yes, I'd be grateful for something hot to warm my hands up"

Greg made tea handing Sherlock a cup, "thank you. Are you joining me?" Sherlock pats the empty side of the sofa.

"Sure" Greg sits down on the other side of the couch. Sherlock shuffles up to lean into Greg's side; cupping his tea carefully in his hands Greg places his free arm around Sherlock holding him. "This is... nice"

"Yes it is"

"Shall we watch some TV? I must admit I haven't watched TV in a long while"

"Sure" Greg switched the telly on still hugging Sherlock. Despite Sherlock's usual boredom, he was quite content to sit like this watching mindless telly. It had been a long time too, since Greg had simply watched telly with someone, enjoying his or her company.

"Greg? How long can I stay? I know you said I was welcome to stay..." Sherlock trails off.

"As long as you want to Sherlock, I haven't got anyone else living here."

"Okay" Sherlock smiles and nuzzles closer in to Greg. Greg smiles, Sherlock _was_ cuddly even if he didn't admit it.

Before Sherlock knows it he's drifting off to sleep on Greg's shoulder, his body still needing rest. Greg could feel Sherlock falling asleep, but knowing that he needed rest decided not move. He too falls asleep on the couch.

* * *

><p><strong>THAT EVENING <strong>

Greg woke and felt something warm and solid lying on his shoulder. He froze and looked round, it was Sherlock still fast asleep from that afternoon.

Sherlock didn't wake until Greg made to move from under him "Hmm... I fell.. asleep?'

"Yes but its fine you needed it"

"mmph.." Greg smiled, "tea?"

"Mmm yes thanks" Sherlock lifts himself up so Greg can move.

"Did you sleep well?" he calls from the kitchen.

"Hmm, I think so, you are very comfortable" Sherlock chuckles.

"Thank you, can't say I've been compared to a pillow before"

"Hmm surely not. What shall we do for dinner? I can't have you feeling I take but don't give."

"Umm ok, why don't you get tea and I'll organise dinner"

"Right. Shall do" Sherlock didn't want Greg to feel he was just freeloading, especially if he wanted their relationship to move any further.

Greg started on dinner; he made simple pasta with sauce.

"That smells delicious Greg, even I didn't know you cooked and that's saying something"

"We all have our little mysteries Sherlock"

"Hmm, indeed we do."

Greg voiced a thought that had been puzzling him, "you seem quite nervous about physical contact, do you dislike being touched?"

Sherlock honestly thought Greg hadn't noticed. "I'm just not used to it. All the relationships I've had were of a purely sexual nature, so touching without that sexual level is different. I don't dislike it, I'm just not used to it. Don't let that put you off though."

"Well as long as you're comfortable with being touched, I'm fine, I don't want to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

"I feel comfortable with you, Greg. That will certainly not change, I can assure you."

"That's good, I don't want to lose this"

Sherlock can't believe Greg's words, "really?"

"You really are one of a kind Sherlock, whatever we have right now I am enjoying it and I really don't wish for it to end"

"I'm glad" Sherlock moves over to Greg and hugs him, feeling it necessary to the situation. Greg wraps both arms around Sherlock holding him close, this was one of the first times he had initiated physical contact with Greg and he was enjoying it immensely.

"This is nice, but I believe pasta is waiting? We can watch a movie and cuddle afterwards," Sherlock thought that sounded vaguely normal. Greg pulled away from Sherlock and went to serve dinner. "A movie sounds nice," he agreed as he handed Sherlock a bowl of pasta. "This looks delicious Greg, I really am astounded at your cooking skills. Statistically, considering you have been married, I thought it highly unlikely you would cook, normally a female's job in the household."

"My wife was a hopeless cook, if I wanted to survive on something other than takeout I had to learn how to cook"

"Well you learned very well!" Sherlock smiles.

"Well I'm just happy I've got you eating again, you're a little skinny"

"Yes. I am rather. I tend to neglect eating, I don't tend to have 'withdrawal' symptoms when it comes to food"

"You just needed someone to remind you"

"Yes, that I did" Sherlock cleared the plates from the table and placed them in the sink. "What shall we watch?"

"Hmm, I have a couple of movies what are you in the mood for?"

"Anything, just feel like cuddling I guess. Gosh, that's weird to say..." Sherlock was slightly embarrassed. Greg rifled through his collection. He pulled out 'Love Actually'.

"This looks... interesting"

"Trust me its funny" Greg put the movie on and returned to cuddle up with Sherlock.

"I trust you. The cast looks alright." Sherlock snuggles up to Greg, resting his head on his shoulder.

Greg enjoyed the film more than he usually did; he was enjoying feeling Sherlock against him. Sherlock gets a bit frustrated with the film, unable to see how these people could not simply _deduce _the situations. However he did surprisingly enjoy spending this time with Greg. Greg laughed, he could see Sherlock getting frustrated, and he was very funny. By the time the movie had finished, Sherlock had moved to rest his head in the older man's lap, drifting in and out of sleep. Greg had taken to slowly stroking Sherlock's hair, falling asleep on the couch seemed to be a regular thing. But knowing that he would regret this in the morning, Greg carefully picked Sherlock up and carried him to the guest bedroom, placing him gently in the bed. Sherlock awoke slightly when the warmth of Greg's body was absent. "Mmm, stay," he said in his half sleep, "warm." Greg shrugged and climbed into bed behind Sherlock wrapping an arm around him keeping him warm as he fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>littleredfez &amp; luvmyangelofmusic<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**NEXT MORNING **

Sherlock woke, a warm figure curled up next to him. Sherlock rolls over to look at Greg face to face. He's so relaxed in his sleep; Sherlock doesn't want to wake him. He just lies there, looking at Greg's sleeping form. Greg stirs slowly as he feels Sherlock move. "Morning" he mumbles still half asleep.

"Morning. It's early yet, go back to sleep." Sherlock lightly strokes Greg's shoulders. Greg nods and slowly succumbs to sleep again.

Sherlock decides to get up and make some breakfast, slipping into a tracksuit of Greg's, no need for a suit at breakfast. He walks into the kitchen and prepares a full breakfast for them: eggs, bacon, tomatoes, beans, mushrooms and sausages. He was able to find all of it in Greg's _surprisingly_ well-stocked fridge.

A half hour later, breakfast was ready to be served up. Sherlock put it in the oven to keep warm whilst he went to see if Greg had emerged. Greg had woken up and was getting ready for the day. He looked around when he saw Sherlock.

"I've made breakfast for us"

"Thanks," Greg follows Sherlock out; he gave him a quick morning hug. Sherlock grabs two plates from the oven and places them in front of Greg and himself, "enjoy."

Greg tucks in, "you know this is very good don't you?"

"Simple chemistry really," Sherlock smiles as he bites into a piece of sausage.

"Of course," Greg chuckles quietly.

"Sorry."

"Its fine Sherlock."  
>"Good."<p>

Greg's phone rang. They were in the middle of their meal. "You can get it, I don't mind."

"Sorry," Greg got up and answered his phone: "Greg Lestrade."

Sherlock continued to eat, watching as Greg had a conversation on the phone.

"Damn. Okay, I'm coming"

Greg returned. "Sorry Sherlock they need me at the Yard."

"That's okay, I'll clean up here, and you go." Sherlock smiled

Greg was unsure. "Why, don't you come in with me?"

"What's the case?" Sherlock asks mischievously.

"A series of murders, we're not sure if they are connected."

"Sounds interesting. I'll just put some other clothes on. Can we pick up my coat on the way?"

"Sure" Greg went to get ready for work. Sherlock put on the outfit he wore to lunch yesterday, donning his blue scarf also. He pocketed the receipt for his coat and his wallet and walked out to meet Greg.

"Ready?"

"Yes let's go" Greg met him outside the flat. They took Greg's car to Scotland Yard; he didn't live too far away.

"The last time I was here it was very different circumstances"

"I know, but you won't be behind bars today"

"Yes, I figured as much," Sherlock trails behind Greg, maintaining a swagger as they walk into his office area. Greg grins as they walk into his office, which was already occupied by Detective Sally Donovan and Anderson. Sherlock tries to stay behind Greg so as not to be noticed immediately by the other officers in the room. Greg walks up to Sally, "Any leads at all?"

Sherlock stands behind Greg, taking in his surroundings and peering at the evidence board.

"All the victims share the same star sign, they are also all between the ages of nineteen and twenty-four."

Sherlock stays quite, not wanting to make a scene with his deductions, not unless Greg asks.

"Anything else?" Greg asked. Both Sally and Anderson were silent. He turned to Sherlock "Have you got anything?"

"All the murders have been committed on a day or a month that somehow relates to the number five. This is all deliberate; there is five in difference between nineteen and twenty-four, the days they were murdered on were either the 5th day of that month, the 5th month, or were a multiple of five. This suggests an obsession with the number five, there is a wide field there, you have astronomers, and religious connotations to that number. But the murders themselves give the killer away. The bodies have not been murdered in any way that indicates anything in relation to an astronomer, and whilst this _is _a religious killing it is not any religion that you're thinking of. The only religion that has this greater focus on the number five is the Wicca or pagan witchcraft religion. The pentagram has _five _points! Your looking for a middle aged man with low self esteem who finds confidence and meaning in this religion." Sherlock finishes, gazing around the silent room.

"You're a freak!" Sally said. She was glaring at him with undisguised hate. Greg was speechless again as he looked at Sherlock who never failed to amaze him.

"I think that is everything, you should be able to make arrest based on this."

"Thank you, yes Sherlock," Greg responds grinning broadly at him.

Sally and Anderson were still speechless watching Sherlock.

"Great," Sherlock smiles back at Greg. "Can we get some lunch now? Or do you need to stay here? I can find my way back _home_ I guess."

"Sure" Greg led Sherlock out of the office. They went to lunch. They settled for having lunch at a local Pret A Manger, they did lovely sandwiches. Sherlock's regular eating patterns meant he needed lunch. He was hungry for once.

Greg felt tense. He had heard what Donovan had called Sherlock and he knew this would be bad for Sherlock. "Sherlock I want you..." but he didn't finish his sentence his words sounded empty and hollow.

Sherlock looked up from his sandwich. "You were saying?" He could sense Greg's distress.

"I want you to know that no matter what _anyone_ says you are _not_ a freak."

"It's fine Greg, really. I'm used to it by now" Sherlock shrugs it off

"No Sherlock you shouldn't be used to it, you're allowed to feel."

"It still hurts, but not as much as it used to. I was always bullied at school, but I've grown so accustomed to it, it doesn't bother me all that much anymore."

Greg sighed, he wanted to comfort Sherlock but felt that the younger man wouldn't want an obvious public display.

"Want to go back to the flat?"

"Yes, sure. If you are finished at the office that is?"

"They'll live without me your insight really helped"

"Thank you. Hopefully enough so that they don't need yours." Greg nodded and paid. They drove back to the flat.

* * *

><p>"Don't let what Sally said bother you Greg, it was really nothing," Greg unlocked the flat. He stood in the hallway unsure.<p>

"Are you okay Greg, you seem very hesitant and tense?"

Greg sighed again. "I know you think its ok that everyone calls you a freak but I don't. You matter Sherlock, you mean something to me."

Sherlock was about to reply to Greg's statement when he was hushed by Greg's lips. Before he had a chance to reciprocate the kiss Greg pulled away. Sherlock looked at him, unsure of what to do next. He pulls Greg back in for a deeper kiss. Greg's hands went to Sherlock's hair, unsure about being too rough with the younger man. Sherlock didn't mind Greg's hand in his hair as he wrapped his arms around Greg's waist. After some kissing he pulled back for air. "Mmm" was all Sherlock could manage.

"I've wanted to do that since last night when we were watching Love Actually, but considering the film I didn't feel it an appropriate time," Lestrade leant against the wall next to Sherlock and smiled at him.

"Mmm, well I'm glad you did, irrespective of when. And what you said, uh, thank you." Sherlock moved in front of Greg again and kissed him gently, "well are we going to loiter in the hallway all day?" Sherlock laughed.

"I s'pose not" Greg chuckled, following Sherlock into his flat. "Tea?"

"mmm yes thanks!" Sherlock wandered off into the guest room to get changed back into his tracksuit.

"Sherlock, tea's ready," Lestrade shouted into the hall as he set his and Sherlock's tea on the coffee table before making himself comfortable on the couch, flicking on the telly to a late-morning chat show of some sort.

Sherlock pads into the lounge room and sets himself down next to Greg "this looks riveting," Sherlock remarks, retrieving his tea and sipping it.

"This time of the morning is worst for television, not that I would normally watch television, not with the hours I keep"

"Well I certainly wouldn't know" Sherlock finishes his cup of tea, placing it on the coffee table and cuddling up to Greg.

"We are making too much of a habit of this, cuddling on the couch" Sherlock hesitantly places a kiss on Greg's cheek.

"I could certainly get used to it," Greg tilts Sherlock's chin up to give him a tender kiss, "but if there is something you would rather be doing?" Greg smiles.

"Mmm, no…this is quite alright" Sherlock leans into Greg's touch. Sherlock knew that after having not taken cocaine for forty-eight hours, that the withdrawal symptoms were taking an awfully long time to appear, probably because he had broken his dependence cycle, intending to stay clean. But that hadn't worked. Sherlock was quite comfortable with Greg on the couch but he was starting to feel the crash.

"Mmm, Greg? I'm not feeling so well, I think I might go and lie down for a bit,"

Greg looked down at him worried, "okay" he got up and helped Sherlock into the guest bedroom.

Sherlock suddenly felt exhausted, and his skin was slowly becoming hot and clammy. "I'll be alright now," he managed as Greg helped him onto the bed. Greg wasn't sure, but he left Sherlock and went back to the couch. He put the TV on low so he could hear if anything happened.

Sherlock knew what was going to happen. Hopefully it wouldn't be as bad as his previous detoxes, as he hadn't been regularly using. Despite that, the down is always unpleasant. Sherlock was glad he'd changed his clothing when he got to Greg's as he stumbled out of bed into the ensuite. This was the bit he hated, and why he didn't eat all that much. The nausea. He heaved the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl, groaning as he sat upright again.

Greg could hear retching; he jumped up panicking and ran into the guest bedroom. He saw Sherlock lying next to the toilet.

Sherlock moaned on the floor, curled up on his side. "I'll... be fine... in a bit. Don't worry." He retched into the toilet bowl again.

"Oh Sherlock," Greg realised he was going through withdrawal from cocaine. He got a flannel and placed it on Sherlock's forehead to cool him down

"Mm thanks" Sherlock rested his head on the side of the toilet. "I'll be fine soon," he hoped he would, the withdrawal should be shorter this time.

Greg left briefly and returned with a glass of water that placed by Sherlock's head. There wasn't much he could do.

"Thanks" Sherlock took a gulp, soothing the burn of his throat. "I'm sorry Greg, you shouldn't have to see this, or deal with it," Sherlock groaned.

"I just want you to be ok Sherlock, I don't care as long as you're ok"

"I'll be fine once I get over this" Sherlock groans, his stomach churning. He curls in on himself. Greg sits down on the floor with Sherlock slowly rubbing his back in soothing circles, "you don't need to be here... see this..."

"Yes I do, I care about you therefore I have to be here"

"Mmm, as you wish," Sherlock retches into the toilet bowl.

* * *

><p>Greg sat with Sherlock in the bathroom, as his withdrawal got worse. Sherlock started having muscle spasms and shaking, Greg held him close to his body. Sherlock felt horrible. This was the only thing he hated about cocaine - the withdrawal. It felt like every muscle in his body was trying to tear into shreds, sometimes losing control and bursting into fits of muscle spasms. He was feverish, delusional, angry and didn't want Greg to see him go through this. It wasn't fair. The vomiting wasn't quite as bad, but now that his system had expelled all the food in his stomach, the bile burned his throat.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>littleredfez &amp; luvmyangelofmusic<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**NEXT DAY**

Sherlock woke up lying on the top of his bed, unable to remember how he got there. Greg must've moved him there, fallen asleep on the bathroom floor. He feels revolting, stale sweat and the taste of bile in his mouth. His muscles are still sore, his head still aches, and there is a dull pang in his stomach - but he feels much better than he did the previous evening. Greg was already awake; he had been up most of the night checking on Sherlock. Sherlock struggled into a sitting position, feeling rather dizzy. He grasps for the tall glass of water of the bedside cabinet and gulps the water.

Greg walked into the guest room. "How are you feeling?"

"Could be better, but no the worst withdrawal I've had. I desperately want a shower and some tea... not sure I'm quite up to standing though... feeling a bit dizzy."

"I'll get you tea, we'll work on the shower after" Greg smiled and went to get him tea and crackers.

"Mmm, thank you… you don't need to do all this"

"Now are we going to get you a shower?" Greg said as he saw Sherlock lying there obviously in discomfort. Sherlock had never had anyone with him when he had withdrawn from the cocaine. It was strange having someone who _wanted_ to be around you whilst in this kind of state. Greg was curious; Sherlock had said that he had done this before. "Sherlock what happened with your previous withdrawals?"

"Basically the same just stretched out over many days. My last withdrawals were all after long periods of regular using. It was terrible, but I did it on my own," Greg looked at him sadly.

"Nobody should go through this alone"

"I didn't really have much choice. If I contacted my brother he probably would have me committed."

"I'm amazed you've done this alone so many times and survived."

"My body is surprising resilient, and I haven't overdosed before. I always handled withdrawal quite well despite the discomfort, found somewhere to stay during it"

"How long do they usually last?"

"Anywhere up to two weeks. Sometimes longer, but very rarely. The last time was the worst because I had been using for so long."

"Well, if they get worse I'm sure I can get a doctor here. Being DI gives you some leverage"

"I should be alright. I only relapsed last week after a month of being clean"

Greg sighed and just sat with Sherlock.

"I only did it to slow my brain down. To stop myself being so bored."

"Have to say that is a new one!"

"Hmm… well not meaning to be rude or anything, but I doubt you've ever met anyone with an intellect such as mine."

Greg laughed, "yes well you have me there"

"The cocaine helped stop the boredom. Occasionally I'd use morphine too, but not nearly as often as coke."

"And nobody ever tried to stop you?"

"I was homeless, and before that nobody in my family knew."

"What truly amazes me is your ability to stay under the radar, your name hasn't previously appeared in police records."

"That would be my brother's doing no doubt"

"Ah"

"Yes, he has his ways. He wants to protect me, fair enough. I choose not to have all that much to do with him."

"He could have tried to get you off drugs," Greg can't help sounding a little annoyed at this mysterious brother.

"Yes, he could have, but he saw it as my own personal downfall, something I should have to rectify myself. Anyway, enough of this," Sherlock finishes his tea and makes to stand up, wobbling a bit when he tries to get to his feet. Greg stands up as well ready to catch Sherlock if he falls.

"I think I'm alright, just a lack of food etcetera..." Sherlock makes his way to the ensuite.

"If you need anything, and I mean _anything,_ give me a shout."

"I should be alright... could you give me a hand getting this t-shirt off though? I need to support myself and don't think I'll be able to get it over my head without toppling over..," Sherlock trails off.

"Of course."

"Thanks." Sherlock sat on the edge of the bath and lifted his arms as Greg slowly peels off the t-shirt.

"Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be alright" Sherlock felt a bit self-conscious sitting half naked in front of Greg.

"Right, okay," Greg left Sherlock alone.

Sherlock gingerly stepped into the shower, turning the water on hot. He moaned when he stepped under the hot spray. It felt unbelievably good on his aching body. Greg was worried about Sherlock, but he busied himself making tea and checking in with Scotland Yard, always keeping an ear out in case Sherlock needed him. Sherlock had a long shower, scrubbing at his body to remove the stale sweat and massaging the sore muscles. Twenty minutes later he came out of the shower, he dried himself off and wrapped himself up in the toweling gown. He walked out into the kitchen. "Greg, do you have any more spare casual clothes? I didn't buy any when we went shopping."

"Yes" Greg got him a casual plaid button up shirt and some track pants.

"Thanks. Looks like we'll need to go shopping for some more practical clothing for me," Sherlock chuckles before walking back to his room to get changed.

"Yes, I know a few places though they aren't probably your sort of shops"

"That's alright, I can't wear suits all the time believe it or not. And I'm not so inclined to have brand named tracksuits." Sherlock smiles.

"Well now that's sorted" Greg grinned. Sherlock got changed and came back out into the kitchen. "Do you think you could rustle up something for me to eat? I'm starving." Sherlock grins.

"I am sure I can Mr. Holmes," Greg went into the kitchen.

"Mr. Holmes now is it?" Sherlock chuckles. "I'll make some tea" He gingerly walks around to the kettle, filling it and getting the tea bags and cups ready.

"Thanks again Greg. i didn't expect you to sit with me whilst I was in that state."

"There was no way I could let you go through that alone, not this time."

"Thanks Greg," Sherlock squeezes Greg's hand on the counter. Greg kisses Sherlock's hand smiling.

"Smells good. I am famished."

"You really seem to like my cooking"

"Anybody with half a brain would like your cooking"

"Thanks."

* * *

><p>Sherlock eats the salmon and salad slowly, making sure he didn't feel ill, 'mmm thanks Greg."<p>

"Its nothing Sherlock, its actually nice cooking for another person again."

"Hmm I'm glad. I think I'm feeling well enough to go outside, I need some fresh air. Maybe we could go get me some casual clothes so I'm not living in yours constantly? Gosh shopping twice in one week!"

"Sounds fun," Greg cleaned up lunch and went to get ready.

_I think I'll just stay in these clothes, my body still hurts and I think a suit is a bit too much_ he waits for Greg on the couch, looking absent mindlessly around Greg's apartment. Greg reemerges from his bedroom dressed and ready to go. "Ready to go Sherlock?"

"Mm, yep!" Sherlock gets up from the couch; "might need an arm if we're walking, not sure I can keep my balance totally at the moment." Sherlock smiles at Greg.

"I don't mind" they slowly make their way out of the flat, Greg wraps an arm around Sherlock allowing the younger man to place an arm on his shoulders.

"Thank you. It might take me a bit of time before I regain my balance, still a bit dizzy."

"I don't mind."

"Mm good."

"You smell good, you know, like cinnamon."

"Why thank you, must just be my natural scent. You smell good too, I like your cologne," _hmm I smell good? That's strange._

"Thank you" Greg gave a comic sniff of Sherlock.

"People must think us crazy. Quite right too...haha"

"Don't worry, most think I'm nuts."

"Me also, but you know that, what with the remarks at Scotland Yard."

"They're idiots I wouldn't put too much stock in what they say."

"Oh good."

"So where are we heading?"

"To a good little shop that sells everyday clothes," Greg and Sherlock stop outside of a small shop with causal men's clothing.

"Sounds perfect for what I need."

"It should be" they enter the shop. Sherlock picks out some track pants, t-shirts and a couple of warm jumpers as well as two pairs of jeans, some underwear and socks also. "That should do me, maybe some pajamas also."

"Sounds good" Greg walked around with Sherlock as he picked out pajamas.

"These look alright?" Sherlock jokingly holds up a pair of pajamas with racing cars on them, he chuckles.

"Yes they suit you completely"

Sherlock laughs, "I think the pinstripe are a bit more appropriate."

"Yes you might be right"

"I think I've got everything I need, at least for a while anyway."

"Good."

Sherlock wraps his hand around Greg's, intertwining their fingers, as they walk from the shop. Greg is grinning broadly. Sherlock was happy with public displays of affection? He squeezes Sherlock's hand.

"So do you have anything planned for the rest of the day? I hate to be keeping you from work?"

"No I don't have anything planned. Fancy going to the park for a while?"

"Yeah, I don't mind. Then maybe we could go home and watch a movie or something. Mind you, I'll probably fall asleep, I'm feeling a bit drained. Maybe we could grab a coffee on our way to the park?"

"That's fine, there are seats if you get really tired."

"Mmmm I can smell that coffee from here," they ordered two latte's.

#

Greg blew on his coffee thankful for the warmth. "Mmm this smells good"

"Mhmm, one drug for another."

"Yes but this one won't kill you."

"True, true" Sherlock takes another sip of his coffee "mmm". They approached the park where Greg spied an empty seat. "Want to sit down?"

"Yes, actually. Feeling quite tired." Sherlock sits next to Greg and rests his head on Greg's shoulder. "We've got rather cuddly, haven't we?" Sherlock chuckles.

"I know, and you deny that you're cuddly. Shame on you Sherlock."

"Ordinarily I'm quite detached from my emotions, maybe the withdrawal just causes me to let my guard down. Anyhow..." Sherlock is a bit embarrassed.

"Sorry Sherlock don't mean to make you uncomfortable about this"

"No, not at all. It's all fine" Sherlock gives Greg a kiss on the cheek. Greg kissed Sherlock holding him.

Sherlock smiled "a little intimate for public don't you think?"

Greg gazed around; the park was empty except for themselves. "There is nobody around"

"Yes, well..." Sherlock looks away

"If you're uncomfortable Sherlock I won't I apologize for making you nervous"

"It's okay, I just think kissing in public is a little soon?"

"Okay," Greg smiled; he removed his arm from Sherlock and simply sat with him.

"We can still hold hands and cuddle though" Sherlock pulls Greg's hand into his in his lap.

"Okay, as long as you're comfortable" Greg grins,

Greg was so busy cuddling Sherlock on the bench that neither men noticed the man who had entered the park carrying a large sign. The man had spotted them cuddling on the bench. He walked over to them holding his sign high, "you are going to hell for you are sinners in the eyes of god!" he had started to yell at them loudly.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock said to the man.

The man continued, "You are an abomination and will burn in hell for you are wrong by nature and gods law!"

"DO YOU MIND! WE'RE TRYING TO ENJOY OUR COFFEE. TAKE YOUR PREACHING SOMEWHERE SOMEONE MIGHT _LISTEN!" _Sherlock huffed.

The man left and Greg turned to Sherlock "I think you might have scared him" he said laughing.

"Good! He deserves it. What does it matter if we're gay, we love one another, isn't that all that matters – oh," Sherlock covers his mouth, realizing what he just said, "what I mean is –" Greg is silent too. Sherlock had just said _love, _did Sherlock love him?

"Maybe we should back, huh?" Sherlock is nervous and avoiding eye contact as he stands.

"Yeah maybe," Greg follows Sherlock as they walk back silently through the park. Sherlock feels awkward, unsure of how to resurrect what had just happened.

He hadn't meant to say that, it was more of a generalization. Greg was unsure how to proceed. Sherlock was not like other people he'd met, he was more emotionally fragile and Greg didn't want to break him.

"Did you want to pickup some takeaway on our way home and have an early dinner?" Sherlock was quickly trying to amend his mistake.

"Yeah that sounds good," Greg readily agreed to cover the tension.

They ordered some dim sum and various other Chinese dumplings and dishes. "We have to have some prawn crackers and spring rolls too!" Sherlock said as he ordered and paid for the take-away. Greg grinned at his, _what did he call him, boyfriend? Lover was a bit premature._ God Greg shook himself, now was not the time for that type of thinking.

"Mmm home again so we can eat this stuff... it looks soo good," Sherlock looked at Greg. He looked caught up in his own mind. Greg gave a start, "Yes sorry got sidetracked, this smells good." Sherlock linked his arm through Greg's as they walked back. They needed to talk about what he said, maybe after dinner.

Greg got some plates and cutlery once they were back in the flat he passed Sherlock some and sat down to enjoy the Chinese.

"This stuff is amazing!" Sherlock filled his plate with some steamed rice, dumplings, dim Sims and spring rolls whilst munching on a prawn cracker.

"Yes can't say I've ever had Chinese like this"

"This may become something of a regular food for us then?"

"Possibly, I don't see why not"

The made their way through the food, Sherlock feeling incredibly full, but still managing to fit in some more prawn crackers "yummm."

"Mhm," Greg agreed.

Sherlock cleaned up all of the rubbish and picked up the plates, putting them in the kitchen. "Definitely remembering that place for the future."

"Without a doubt," Greg could sense that they were both dancing around the issue they knew they had to talk about,

"Shall we watch a movie or some TV? I think Doctor Who or some such thing might be on." Sherlock came back into the lounge and resumed his seat next to Greg.

"Sounds good."

"Greg about what I said earlier I –, uh" Sherlock was unsure what to say.

Greg was also unsure, "Sherlock, I don't want to rush you into anything, but if that's how you feel its ok."

"No, no it's fine. It just slipped out. I believe I do feel _that_, but having never had that kind of relationship, I am unsure. But I want to continue this, you're the best thing that has happened to me" Sherlock kisses Greg.

Greg returns it before pulling away, "I don't want to loose what we have, you're amazing and I've never met someone like you."

"I won't let that happen Greg," Sherlock kissed him again, deeper this time.

Greg kissed Sherlock back slowly running his hands through his hair. What Sherlock said meant a lot to him, and the way he was acting now was eliciting all sorts of emotions from within him…

Sherlock pulled back and looked at Greg before pushing him gently onto his back, head resting on the plush pillows. Sherlock plunders Greg's mouth again, this time with more of ferocity. He cups Greg's face as he continues to kiss the older man, pushing his tongue past Greg's lips and exploring his mouth. Greg is surprised by Sherlock's movements but does not hold back, cupping his hands behind Sherlock's neck. He doesn't hesitate when Sherlock's tongue gently pushes its way into his mouth, and reciprocates with equal eagerness.

Sherlock pulled back for breath, their lips red from the continued kissing and breath heavy.

"I thought you hadn't done this before" Greg stated, surprised and flustered by the making out session.

"I said I hadn't done _relationships_ before. I didn't say I hadn't snogged anyone before" Sherlock chuckled, "and I've done far more than snogging."

"Really?" Greg replied, pulling Sherlock into his and locking lips again.

* * *

><p>The making out session, which resulted, became heated rather quickly. Any inhibitions Sherlock had about emotional expression clearly void as his hands found his was under Greg's shirt. Greg's hands, too, were busy exploring Sherlock' chest through his tightly fitting t-shirt. Greg managed to flip him and Sherlock not long after Sherlock's hands had found their way under Greg's shirt. As soon as Greg had flipped them over, he left Sherlock's mouth (eliciting a disgruntled whimper from Sherlock) and attacked his neck, the sensitive skin between his ear and collarbone. Sherlock moans at the sensation of Greg's lips on his neck.<p>

"I have been wanting to do this for so long Sherlock. Your neck, it's just – , ugh" Greg continues to suck and kiss at the pale flesh, Sherlock wriggling underneath his touch.

Sherlock wraps his arms tightly around Greg, moaning as Greg continues his attack on Sherlock's neck. Sherlock pushes Greg back so he can kiss him, feeling like he's missing out when Greg is sucking at the tender flesh of Sherlock's neck.

"This is lovely" Sherlock says as he breaks the kiss to catch his breath

"I could not think of a better way to have spent the evening. I'm glad we sorted everything out," Greg rolled to his side so he could look at Sherlock

"Yes, me too. I'm not used to all of these emotions, but I think it turned out for the better." Sherlock kissed Greg "I think we got a bit sidetracked" Sherlock giggled.

"Mmm, well I think I would like to continue getting sidetracked," Greg rolled back on top of Sherlock, seizing his lips again and playing with the edge of Sherlock's shirt.

Sherlock moves his hands under Greg's shirt, rucking it up and breaking the kiss quickly to pull the shirt over Greg's head. Sherlock runs his hands over Greg's chest and shoulders as they continue, moans coming from both men. Greg pulls away to attack Sherlock's neck again, unbuttoning his shirt as he does so. The contrast of Sherlock's alabaster skin against the check of Greg's old flannelette shirt is stark, and Greg caresses Sherlock's chest with kisses. Sherlock moans as Greg takes one of his nipples into his mouth, gently sucking on it as he runs his hands along Sherlock's sides. Sherlock involuntarily bucks his hips, his arousal betrayed as he makes contact with Greg's leg.

Greg pulls away to look Sherlock in the eye, "would you like to come to bed with me?"

Sherlock doesn't reply, just recaptures Greg's lips as he pushes them off of the couch.

Greg breaks away, "I take that as a yes then?", he takes Sherlock's hand and leads him to his bedroom. He closes the door behind them and Sherlock presses Greg back against the door, knee between his leg and plundering Greg's mouth. Greg pushes Sherlock back gently until the both fall on the bed, both giggling like schoolgirls.

Before they go any further Greg wants to make sure Sherlock is ready, _I can't stuff this up_, "are you sure you want to do this Sherlock?

"Yes" Sherlock nods "I haven't wanted anything this much in a very long time"

"Good". Greg starts to make-work on Sherlock's pants, sliding them off his hips and onto the floor. He pulls the unbuttoned shirt off also, Sherlock lying on the bed in nothing but his underwear, the black colour doing nothing to hide Sherlock's obvious arousal. Greg kisses Sherlock as he grabs Sherlock's hands, placing them on the band of his jeans. Sherlock gets the message and pulls Greg's trousers off, admiring the full expanse of his toned body.

They begin to kiss again as they eagerly caress each others bodies, Sherlock rutting up into Greg. Greg reaches down and slips his hand into Sherlock's underwear, taking his hard length in his hand. Sherlock gasps at the touch, but begins to moan as Greg stokes slowly.

"Mmm, stop" Sherlock manages between moans, not wanting to expend himself so soon in the evening.

"Is something wrong, Sherlock" Greg asked, unsure.

"No… just don't want to come yet" Sherlock smiled and kissed Greg's lips, "not like this".

"Then how would you like to come my dear Sherlock?" Greg figured a direct attack was good, not wanting to step over the line too soon with Sherlock

"With you, inside me" Sherlock pronounces placing another kiss on Greg's lips. Greg moans at Sherlock's words. He pulls down his boxers, and then Sherlock's, taking time to admire what he is presented with. Greg shuffles them up the bed, placing Sherlock's head on the pillows. He reaches into the bedside cabinet and retrieves a small bottle of lube.

Greg slicked up the fingers on his right hand, and gently began to caress Sherlock's opening. Sherlock moaned as the tip of Greg's index finger breached his entrance. He clenched slightly at the sensation, but soon relaxed as Greg pushed his finger in up to his knuckle. He slowly worked his finger in Sherlock, adding a second once the muscles had relaxed and Sherlock was more open. He thrust the two fingers in and out, eliciting moans from Sherlock as he targeted his prostate. He added a third finger gently and began to scissor, eliciting a small whimper from Sherlock. "Are you okay?" he knew what it felt like having not had penetration in a while, but he had to ask to make sure.

"Mhm," Sherlock managed as he nodded slightly. "More".

Greg continued to thrust and scissor his fingers in and out of Sherlock's body, when he felt Sherlock was ready, he pulled out, slicking up his already dripping cock.

"Are you ready?" he asked Sherlock, and was answered by a buck of Sherlock's hips.

Greg pulled Sherlock's legs around his waist as he nudged the tip of his cock against Sherlock's entrance. Sherlock moaned, and Greg slowly entered him. Sherlock was surprised by Greg's size, larger than anyone who's previously had him. When Greg had fully seated himself in Sherlock, it took Sherlock little time to adjust before commanding Greg to move.

Greg thrust slowly to begin with, but the pace built up quickly as both his hunger and Sherlock's demand pushed him forward.

"Oh god Greg!" Sherlock managed and "fuck" when Greg hit his prostate several times.

Before long, both men were yelling expletives as they came close to their release.

"Fuck, Greg. I'm -, I'm gonna come," Sherlock pushed his hips up into Greg as his climax washed over him _oh god_ he thought as his seed spurt over his hand and stomach.

Sherlock clenching around him made Greg topple over the edge, riding out his and Sherlock's release hard. He came inside Sherlock, thrusting hard into the younger mans body, before flopping on top of him, exhausted.

Greg pulled out and reached for tissues, wiping away the results of their affection.

"Mmm..." Sherlock mumbled, hazy eyed " that was good, just what I needed" he kissed Greg _this was definitely a good idea._

"Good. You weren't half bad yourself! Your voice when you come, oh god" Greg crawls up to wrap his arms around Sherlock's naked form, placing kisses on his lips.

Sherlock chuckled. "Why thank you," he said as he pulled the duvet to cover them. He rolls over and hugs Greg as he nuzzles into his chest. "I was right earlier, I think I do love you."

"I'm glad Sherlock", Greg managed, his heart skipping a beat. He kissed Sherlock on the head and tightened the embrace as they both drifted into sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>littlredfez &amp; luvmyangelofmusic<br>**


	7. Chapter 7

**NEXT MORNING**

Greg woke feeling content and happy. He looked at Sherlock, naked and asleep in his arms, the previous nights events flooding back to him. Not long after Greg woke up, Sherlock stirred. He opened his eyes to see Greg laying looking at him, their limbs still entwined after the previous evenings events. Sherlock kissed Greg's lips softly, "morning."

"Morning," Greg kissed Sherlock's forehead.

"Mmm, do you have to work today?" Sherlock mumbles as he nuzzles Greg's chest.

"Unfortunately yes but I'll try to leave early"

"That's okay, I don't expect you to take time off work for me. I'll make something for dinner, anything else you want me to do whilst you're gone?" Sherlock looks at Greg.

"No that should be fine, thanks Sherlock"

"S'okay. Guess you have to get up then?" Sherlock looks at Greg longingly, pouting.

"Yes I do sorry" Greg kisses Sherlock.

"It's okay," Sherlock wraps the duvet around him as Greg gets out of bed, slipping into the ensuite. Greg gets ready for work trying to forget that Sherlock is still naked in his bed.

Sherlock drifts back to sleep whilst Greg is in the shower, nuzzling his pillow and taking in his delicious scent.

Greg gets out and once dressed, returns to the bedroom to see Sherlock asleep and nuzzling his pillow. "Goodnight Sherlock" he whispers as he kisses him on the cheek before leaving for work.

Sherlock sleeps until lunchtime, waking to an empty bed and a hungry stomach. He finds his discarded clothing, pulling it on and padding into the kitchen to make something to eat. Everything feels a bit weird, living with someone else after being alone for so long. But he would not complain about the physical side of things at all, it's the emotions he finds difficult.

Greg heads into Scotland Yard, they were wrapping up the pentagram killer and he needed to finalize things with Donovan.

"Sir can I ask you something," Sally was already in his office.

"Of course Sally, fire away," Greg busies himself with files whilst taking sips from his coffee.

"Sir its about Sherlock Holmes"

Greg was wary now but did his best not to show it. "What about him Sally?"

"Sir myself and other officers are concerned about you working with an ex cocaine addict and ex felon."

Greg was silent for a half second, "Why, do you not trust him?"

"I'm just going to be frank Sir. There is something off about him, there is nothing normal about him."

"You think he's a freak?"

"If you want to phrase it that way, then yes, he is a freak. Normal people don't get that excited by murder!"

"He helped us shut a case which we had no leads on Sally"

"Sir, yes he helped with a case, but he is a freak!"

Greg was getting frustrated. He wanted to slap Sally for what she was saying about Sherlock. "Donovan either give me the details about the case or get out."

Sally left.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was at Greg's, trying to amuse himself. He'd made some food and was now sitting with a bowl of popcorn in his lap watching "A Bit of Fry and Laurie", entertained, but still bored.

Greg had wrapped up the case. The details were written up and he felt exhausted. He decided to go home.

He drove home and walked in unlocking the door. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock heard the door unlock, puzzled. When he heard Greg's familiar voice he made his was to the door. "Hi Greg, you're home early, something the matter?" Greg looked troubled.

Greg looked at Sherlock debating whether to tell him about Donovan.

"Just had a hard day at Scotland Yard that's all"

"Anything you want to talk about?" _boyfriends do that right? Talk about their days and feelings?_ Sherlock was puzzled.

"Its just some of the colleagues"

Sherlock knew what Lestrade meant. "It's Sally again isn't it? She came to you to discuss my involvement with the force. She -, she questioned my intent and my ability as well as my previous drug habits. But she didn't insinuate a relationship, so that didn't upset you. So you are angry that she insulted me?" Sherlock was frustrated at Greg, but also touched.

Greg couldn't help it, Sherlock's insights always made him smile.

"Yes your right, it was Donovan, and yes she doesn't know about our relationship"

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"Well wouldn't make her warm to you, or make her more willing to let you work for Scotland Yard"

"Yes good point. I don't have an issue with keeping it under wraps as long as you're okay with it and able to play along?"

"Yes that's not a problem," Greg wasn't sure whether to tell Sherlock about Sally's comment.

"Good," Sherlock moves in to kiss Greg.

Greg forgets about Sally and kisses Sherlock. Sherlock pulls away, "won't be able to do this at crime scenes, will we" he smiles smugly.

"No we won't, most regrettably."

"All the more for when we get home," Sherlock giggles

"Yes," Greg kisses Sherlock on the nose.

"I'm just watching some TV, care to join? I'll make us dinner in a minute"

"If you insist," Greg curled up with Sherlock on the couch.

"Don't tell me you don't like cuddling, you yourself said you found me cuddly!" Sherlock kissed Greg's cheek as he grabs for another handful of popcorn.

"I love cuddling especially with you even though you still deny your cuddliness" Greg took a handful of popcorn and wrapped an arm around Sherlock.

By the time they finished the bowl of popcorn, it was around seven in the evening, the sun well and truly set. "I think I should probably go make that dinner I promised, huh?"

"Yes. I didn't know you could cook"

"Like I said before, it's all chemistry!" Sherlock grabbed some chicken from the freezer and set about preparing some vegetables to roast. "How does paprika chicken with tomatoes, peppers and roasted vegetables sound?"

"Mhm tasty."

"Good," Sherlock busied himself with making the dinner. Once he'd finished preparing it all he put it in the oven, moving to clear up the mess. "If cooking wasn't so messy, I would enjoy it a whole deal more!"

"How often did you cook for yourself?"

"Well considering I didn't have a residence, not often at all. And when I was at home I rarely cooked unless I was alone and the staff were on holiday"

"Right well it looks good"

"Good. Now what are we drinking?"

"Hmm, do you drink?"

"Yes, not often though. A white would go well if you have any? Otherwise could you pop out and get something? I fancy something to drink tonight"

Greg went and checked his wines. "I have two whites"

"Mm good" Sherlock smiled at him. "Well dinner is ready if you'd like to pour us a glass each". Sherlock served up the chicken and vegetables and placed them on the table, receiving his glass from Greg and kissing him gently on the lips. "You still seem a bit bothered Greg, are you sure you're alright?"

Greg sighed heavily. "It was just something Donovan said. She said that most of Scotland Yard consider you a freak," Greg looked away to pour the wine.

Sherlock begins to eat his food. "Look Greg, Sally clearly isn't worth the time of day if all she does is make you upset. You're above her; she should take your word as gospel. Don't let it bother you," Sherlock places his hand over Greg's on the table.

"Thank you Sherlock, I just hate it when people talk about you like that when you're so amazing."

"Yes, well people are entitled to their opinion, and most seem to judge quite openly."

"They don't know you."

"Exactly, so why let it bother you?" Sherlock smiles, "anyway, dinner. None of this."

"Okay" Greg started to eat the dinner, "Sherlock this is really good!"

"Why thank you" Sherlock takes another sip of his wine. "I believe there is some ice cream in your freezer that I fully intend to eat afterwards"

"Well how can I refuse?"

"Indeed, how can you" Sherlock giggles, taking another bite of the meal.

"Mhm I am sure I have chocolate sauce here somewhere"

"Sounds good" Sherlock finishes up his food and clears the plate, heading straight to the freezer to retrieve the ice cream.

"Eager aren't you" Greg laughs as he cleans up watching Sherlock.

"I haven't had ice cream in a long time" Sherlock scoops some into a bowl "you having some?"

"Yeah I'll have some hang on I'll get the sauce" Greg finds the chocolate sauce. Sherlock dishes out some ice cream into a bowl for Greg also, and grabs the chocolate sauce from Greg, liberally covering the ice cream. "Enough?" Sherlock giggles like a young boy

"Yes I'd say so" Greg tickles Sherlock's side

"Stop that" Sherlock manages whilst trying to stop Greg tickling him "we'll have ice cream everywhere!"

"Might not be a bad thing."

"Oh," Sherlock manages

"Did I say something wrong, I'm sorry."

"No, not at all! But I would like to eat my ice cream from the bowl this time around," Sherlock giggles, giving Greg a kiss, "your choice" Greg returns the kiss.

"We'll discover the delight of eating ice cream not out of a bowl later, right now I want to indulge in this chocolaty ice creamy bowl of sugar on the couch"

Greg laughed and joined Sherlock on the couch with his ice cream. "This is good ice cream," Sherlock mumbles with a mouth full.

"It is isn't" Greg replies happily enjoying his own bowl

"Yumm."

"Nothing like chocolate and ice cream."

"Indeed. Now I just need a block of chocolate to finish it off!"

"You're in a sugar mood right now aren't you"

"Maybe," Sherlock looks at Greg mischievously.

Greg grinned. "Well I'm sure I could find chocolate around here"

"Good, please," Sherlock smiles at Greg, giving him a peck on the cheek

Greg gets up and starts looking. He finds a block of milk chocolate and returns grinning.

"Yumm. Don't know why I've all of a sudden a want for chocolate!" Sherlock snuggles into Greg's side.

"Its a mystery"

"Can I have some chocolate please?"

"Of course" Greg passed Sherlock the block

"Thank you" Sherlock breaks off a piece and sucks on it before biting into it and moaning at the taste.

Greg watched Sherlock eat the chocolate obviously enjoying it, "Enjoying it?"

"Mmm yes, very much. Want some?"

"Sure," Greg breaks a little off, grinning at Sherlock's childishness.

"Shall we watch a movie?"

"Mhm okay, you pick"

"Awww ummmm... " Sherlock looks through Greg's DVDs. "Ahuh! 'Hot Fuzz', looks completely predictable and highly impossible!"

Greg laughs, "You don't like my taste in movies?"

"I'm not a big movie person Greg, they just pass time"

"I picked up on that funnily enough"

"Hmmm" Sherlock wraps his arms around Greg, settling in to watch the movie

Greg tucked Sherlock under him with Sherlock's head under his chin. He started drawing small little circles on Sherlock's back.

"That's nice" Sherlock says, nuzzling under Greg's chin.

* * *

><p>"This movie is completely unbelievable Greg! The police force is nothing like that! Unless your hiding things from me?" Sherlock looks at Greg questioningly.<p>

"No to the best of my knowledge the police force is not like that"

"Thank god!" Greg laughed.

"Well I'd hate to think Scotland Yard was like that, mind you I only speak for the people I know" Sherlock winks at Greg.

"Oh, if only others knew you were secretly such a devil" Greg said.

"I'm sure they would only think more highly of me!" Sherlock laughs

"That or be truly terrified"

"Yes. Probably terrified I would suggest. I'm bored of this movie" Sherlock huffs. Greg laughs, "Should we change it?"

"Hmm I guess. What else do you have that I might actually enjoy?" Sherlock laughs.

"Hmm I don't know whether you'll like any of the movies that I have," Greg untangles himself from Sherlock and goes to see. He finally selects 'Atonement'. "I think you'll like this"

"I trust you Greg! I hope it's better than hot fuzz!"

"Oh believe me it is"

"Good. Any nice looking guys?"

"Yeah, a few."

"Ooh, I'm in then" Sherlock snuggles into Greg focusing on the screen. Greg rolls his eyes but wraps Sherlock around him watching. Sherlock is only teasing Greg, but he does admit that there are a few lookers in the film, both men and women. Greg was enjoying these moments. Simply holding Sherlock and enjoying a movie.

Sherlock had never been this happy simply sitting with someone and cuddling whilst watching a movie. He looked up to give Greg a kiss at a particularly sad point in the movie, hugging him tightly. Greg returned the gesture, stroking Sherlock's hair. Sherlock is enjoying the movie, warming to some of the actors, as well as the period costuming. Greg was amazed that Sherlock actually deigned to sit still during the movie, usually he was up and about and you couldn't get him still. Sherlock was mesmerized right through the film until the end, shedding a silent tear and clutching at Greg. Greg held him kissing his forehead reassuringly.

"Well that was a very good movie, thank you Greg." Sherlock kisses him gently. Greg kisses Sherlock back, "I thought you would like it."

"Hmm, perhaps I prefer a sad movie, and one which is set in a previous era. This was certainly saddening, and I'm not easily touched" Sherlock lays his head on Greg's lap, looking up at him. Greg looked into Sherlock's bright blue eyes, "you're such a romantic."

"Not really, just with you"

"Well I feel truly honored then"

"So you should" Sherlock leans upwards to kiss Greg on the lips. Greg returns it lazily stroking Sherlock's back. "Shall we go to bed? I assume you have to work tomorrow?" Sherlock moves to sit up.

"Sure," Greg gets up with Sherlock going to the bedroom.

"Might have a shower first if you don't mind, feeling a bit cold..." Sherlock makes his way to the ensuite off Greg's bedroom. Greg nods and gets ready for bed; he follows Sherlock in to brush his teeth.

"I really missed hot showers when I was living on the streets" Sherlock talks to Greg as he's washing his hair. "I can imagine" Greg turns and looks at Sherlock while he's washing his hair. He can see several cuts on his legs and upper arms. Sherlock looks at Greg questioningly, "If you're interested, why don't you join me?"

"No thanks I think I'll just go wait in bed" he couldn't get the image of those cuts out of his head.

"Suit yourself" Sherlock turned around to rinse his hair before grabbing a towel and turning off the shower. He walks into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, "is everything okay Greg?" he can tell something is off from the man by the way he's acting

Greg is having an internal battle. _Did he ask Sherlock about them?_

"I'm fine Sherlock just a little tired."

"Oh, okay" Sherlock was hoping for some_ intimacy_, but clearly something was wrong and Greg wasn't _in the mood_. Odd. Greg watched Sherlock, as he got ready for bed. Now that he focused and _looked_ he could see cuts all over Sherlock's legs and arms. Sherlock could feel Greg's stare and immediately realised why he was staring. It hadn't occurred to him that his cutting would affect Greg, it was so long ago, but clearly the scars were still visible.

Sherlock quickly finishes dressing, pulling the duvet back and hopping into bed. _Should I bring it up now?_ Sherlock argued in his head. Greg realized that Sherlock knew what he was looking at. He lay there silently unsure what to say. Sherlock chose to ignore the issue until Greg was comfortable in asking about it. He wrapped his arms around Greg and curled up, nuzzling his chest. Greg automatically wraps his arms around Sherlock. _Why?_ he asks himself, would Sherlock do this to himself?

Sherlock knows the thoughts going through Greg's head, the same as everyone else. He chooses to ignore them in favour of sleep. "Leave it Greg. Don't worry and go to sleep."

Greg wants to argue but he knows Sherlock and so regrettably agrees, he kisses Sherlock before going to sleep.

"mmm, thank you" Sherlock says before drifting off to sleep in Greg's arms.

* * *

><p><strong>littleredfez &amp; luvmyangelofmusic<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Another chapter! Promise a little bit more M/M after this chapter, as well as some angst! Thanks to the people who favourited and story alerted this! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>NEXT DAY<strong>

Sherlock wakes to an empty bed, Greg's side long gone cold. He listens, but the shower isn't on. _It's only 7am, so unless he was called in early, he shouldn't be at work._ Sherlock stretches and gets out of bed, pulling on a dressing gown and padding wearily into the kitchen. Greg was making breakfast still trying to deal with last night's shock.

"Morning. I thought you'd gone to work early"

"No. I just thought I would make breakfast."

"Well thank you. I was just a bit upset that I didn't get to wake up to see your face," Sherlock hugs Greg from behind, kissing his neck.

"Sorry about that" Greg turned around to kiss Sherlock.

"S'alright, you obviously needed some time to yourself."

"Look Sherlock, I'm sorry about last night"

"It's okay, really, I just wish you would tell me when you are upset."

"I thought it would be wrong to ask about it"

"I thought asking about my drug addiction would've been worse. It's in my past Greg, it's just a reminder of what I did to fend off boredom, and the harsh realities of my life."

"Ok, I will try to be more open Sherlock."

"I really don't mind you asking me about things Greg. I apologize if the scars make you uncomfortable."

"I guess I'm not used to seeing someone who has cut in the past"

"That's okay. If I could make the scars disappear I would, but I can't. They're part of me."

Greg kissed Sherlock. "Its ok I was just a little shocked, I still love you despite your flaws."

"I'm glad. I know it's hard, but we'll work through it together, hmm?"

"Yes we will"

"Breakfast?"

"Sounds good"

"So anything interesting at work at the moment?"

"No, we shut the serial killer case and so far nothings come up."

"Boring then? I'll have to find something to occupy myself." Greg grins, he kisses Sherlock, "mmm too bad I cannot occupy myself with that all day."

"Yes I know it is a shame."

"You have to go, I will clear up. Go get ready"

"Okay," Greg gives him a parting kiss before getting ready for work. Sherlock shuffles around the kitchen, thinking about what he will do today…

* * *

><p>Greg leaves for Scotland Yard though he wished he were back home with Sherlock. Sherlock was home alone again and bored. Very bored. He decided he would go out; maybe have a look at a few bookstores or something, anything to occupy his mind.<p>

Greg sat in his office typing up paper work for cases.

Sherlock went into small antique books store just down the road from Greg's apartment. It contained shelves of leather bound books, and Sherlock found himself immersed in volumes of not only the great classics but also old medical and chemistry text books. He spent hours in the shop, pouring over the shelves, and finally decided up a dozen books which he found particular interest in. He walked back to Greg's late in the afternoon with intentions of lunch and some light reading.

Sherlock was perched on the sofa engrossed in the reading of an 18th century pharmaceutical textbook, storing every nuance of information which could be of future use, as well as making mental notes on experiments to conduct. He barely noticed when Greg waked in.

Greg saw Sherlock immersed in a book, he decided not to disturb him as he went and got changed. Greg reemerged; Sherlock was still immersed so he quietly went about making dinner.

Sherlock thought he should probably give some attention to his boyfriend, despite his interest in the book. He put the book down on the table and walked into the kitchen where Greg was again cooking something delicious, "sorry, I was immersed in the book." Sherlock kisses Greg's neck from behind.

"Its okay Sherlock," Greg kisses his hand as he keeps cooking.

"How was your day, not too boring I hope?"

"Just writing up cases, paperwork, what about you?"

"Bought some old books. Been studying a particularly interesting one all afternoon"

"Well at least your keeping yourself busy"

"I'm sure they'll let you in"

"Yes I still have a few old contacts there" Sherlock muses. Greg grinned as he finished cooking.

"I have several more books which should keep me occupied until such a time"

"We'll I'd hate for you to be bored"

"Yes, I can get rather insufferable when I'm bored. If you ever need any help on cases, I would be more than happy to."

"Thank you, its good to know I can rely on you."

"It keeps me out of mischief, certainly."

"Yes well I have seen some of what happens when you're left to your own devices"

"As much as I may crave for that, at the moment I do not wish to resort to it. It is the last call."

"Well I would also rather you didn't, I don't want to have to arrest you again"

"Maybe I'd like you to arrest me," Sherlock gives a smug smile to Greg over the table.

"Who knew you were so kinky Mr. Holmes?"

"Well" Sherlock smiles at Greg again "you never asked"

"Its not something you usually ask someone"

"I suppose not. Although I normally never ask, I observe."

"Really, do I look like someone who would be interested in that?"

"I don't know" Sherlock smirks, Greg laughs

"You really shouldn't laugh whilst eating Greg," Greg grins, he couldn't believe Sherlock sometimes he was just like a happy child.

"So any interesting cases?" Sherlock asks as he clears the table.

"Not at the moment just open and shut domestics."

"Boring?"

"Very"

* * *

><p><strong>NEXT WEEK<strong>

Greg was lying on the couch, relaxed with Sherlock, when his phone rang. Sherlock looked at Greg, "answer it. It's alright"

Greg kissed his forehead and got up to answer his phone "Lestrade."

He looked over at Sherlock "Of course."

Sherlock perked up, it looked like they had a case. Greg hung up, "We have a case."

Sherlock jumped up "YES!" and embraced Greg in a hug, before kissing him passionately.

"I do love a good murder." Sherlock chuckled

"I can see!"

* * *

><p>Greg and Sherlock went into his office, "so what have we got then?" Greg read the file.<p>

"A serial killer, we think, though there is no link yet found between the victims which were killed differently each time."

"Hmm" Sherlock pondered

The first murder showed a man that had earth stuffed down his throat. Greg was puzzled. There were three photos. Greg looked at the next photo and had to take a deep breath. He victim was collapsed by a fountain, both lungs were punctured.

Sherlock was still examining the first photo. The victims hands were tied behind him, it looked like an execution. He saw something on his chest. "Greg look, there on his chest, it looks like a branding."

Greg looked back at the first photo. "I can't quite make it out"

Sherlock looked closer, and grinned "It says earth its an ambigram"

Greg and Sherlock examined the next photo. The ambigram spelled AIR

Greg was still confused, "How do they all relate?"

"Earth, Air, Fire, Water, the four main elements of science, we're looking for someone in connection to or fascinated with science"

Greg and Sherlock looked at the third body. It was burnt. There was an ambigram on his chest, "FIRE" they both whispered.

Greg looked at the results. All the anagrams were of one particular style, Sherlock glanced at it "I know that style."

Sally noticed him for the first time. "Still here freak?"

Greg stiffened at the phrase; Sherlock's fists curled slightly but he ignored it.

"These are from a group of people that call themselves the illuminati"

Everyone was silent.

"Sherlock" Greg began slowly, "The illuminati have been gone for hundreds of years"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "The illuminati, yes, but these people believe that they _are_ the illuminati. They are trying to get revenge on the church. The next murder will be at somewhere near a church and water."

Greg was amazed, silent.

"Sherlock that's amazing," he turned to Donovan, "I'm heading home to see if I can find anything else, I will call you with any developments."

* * *

><p>R&amp;R thank you!<p>

**littleredfez & luvmyangelofmusic**


	9. Chapter 9

**Another chapter! The case in this is based on _Angel's and Demon's _(luvmyangelofmusic's idea) and information on the underground passages referred to can be found here: http:/underground-history(.)co(.)uk/front(.)php**

* * *

><p><em>"Sherlock" Greg began slowly, "The illuminati have been gone for hundreds of years"<em>

_Sherlock rolled his eyes. "The illuminati, yes, but these people believe that they are the illuminati. They are trying to get revenge on the church. The next murder will be at somewhere near a church and water."_

_Greg was amazed, silent. _

_"Sherlock that's amazing," he turned to Donovan, "I'm heading home to see if I can find anything else, I will call you with any developments."_

* * *

><p>Sherlock was even surprised with the ease in which he was able to solve the murder, but it had seemed so obvious to him what had happened.<p>

"You know you're amazing don't you?" Greg told him.

"I don't know that I'm amazing, I just use my intellect and knowledge to deduce possible solutions. Simple."

Greg smiled, "you really should realise how truly incredible and invaluable you are."

Sherlock smiled back, "I know I am invaluable to _you_, as you are invaluable to your work force. Everyone is invaluable to their job, otherwise they wouldn't be in the position."

Greg pecked him on the cheek, "you know you put most of Scotland Yard to shame."

Sherlock laughed, "not everyone has my mind, but I do admit that some of your colleagues seem particularly... how do you put it, idiotic?"

"Yes, well it is rather hard to get people into those professions. They were good enough and we can't get anyone better"

"Yes, they are good enough. Perhaps I underestimate them sometimes, they would've worked this one out eventually, right?" Sherlock queried.

"Eventually, but numerous people would have died."

Sherlock laughed, "so I truly am invaluable then!"

"Glad you believe me"

"Indeed I do!"

Greg playfully ruffled Sherlock's hair, "Oi!" Sherlock said, giggling.

Greg started ticking Sherlock, laughing.

"No, not fair! You know I don't like being tickled, especially walking home!" Sherlock was barely able to contain his laughter, "stop it!" Greg didn't relent tickling Sherlock, continuing the onslaught, stopping Sherlock and him in the middle of a pathway. But this didn't stop Greg.

"Okay... Seri…ously... stop... it!" Sherlock managed in between fits of laughter and half-hearted attempts to push Greg away. Finally Greg relented, giving Sherlock a quick kiss.

"Never. Do. That. Again. At least not in public. Tickling makes me surprisingly horny." He returns Greg's kiss more deeply. "Good thing we're nearly home." Sherlock smiled.

"Oh god yes" Greg said hoarsely.

"Right, well hurry up." Sherlock grabbed Greg by the hand and pulled him along.

Greg laughed as Sherlock pulled him into the flat.

Sherlock pushed Greg up against the hallway wall and captured his lips with his own, tugging Greg's shirt from his trousers.

Greg moaned loudly and started wrestling with Sherlock's clothing. Sherlock pulled away, "I bet you didn't anticipate tickling having this effect on me, hey?"

"No I didn't" Greg said still wrestling with Sherlock's belt.

"Hmm I didn't think so" Sherlock let Greg unbuckle his belt as he moved Greg onto the couch, pushing him back and falling on top. Greg began attacking Sherlock's neck as he started to unbutton his shirt.

"Rather eager, aren't you?" Sherlock pushed Greg's hands away and started undressing him, ripping off his shirt and pulling his trousers off. Greg allowed Sherlock to take control, moaning softly. Sherlock started kissing and sucking at Greg's neck, whilst undoing his own shirt and wriggling out of it. He pulled away, eliciting a moan from Greg as he undid his own trousers, haphazardly throwing them across the room. Sitting in their underwear, both men were clearly very aroused. Greg bucked up into Sherlock, frustrated; attempting to pull Sherlock closer to him. Sherlock obliged, capturing Greg's lips with his own before trailing his way down his neck and chest, gently teasing Greg's nipples with his tongue before pressing light kisses to his tanned skin. Greg moans as Sherlock continues his teasing, "Mmph, please…. Sherlock," he manages to say.

Sherlock looks up into Greg's eyes, "Yes Greg?" he smirks.

"Want you… now…ugh." Greg manages as Sherlock continues his attack on Greg's chest, and makes his way slowly down to the band of Greg's pants, teasing them with the tips of his fingers. He moves his hand down further and cups Greg's length through his pants, eliciting a deep moan and gasp. That is too much for Sherlock and before long he has both his a Greg's pants off. Sherlock sits straddled on Greg's thighs and takes two of his own fingers into his mouth, sucking on them pleasurably and moaning as he does. Greg merely looks on, eyes wide and stroking his own length.

Sherlock removes his fingers from his mouth with a pop and moves to Greg's entrance. He stills for a second before slowly pushing one finger inside. Greg tenses, but soon relaxes as Sherlock pushes his finger deeper. He pushes his finger in and out in a steady rhythm, opening Greg up before inserting another and scissoring, making Greg moan deeply.

Himself quite aroused, Sherlock is impatient to take Greg, and decides that Greg is prepared enough. He reaches under one of the cushions on the couch and grabs a bottle of lube, hidden from previous escapades.

He lathers his cock before pulling Greg closer and hoisting Greg's legs around his waist. In one swift movement Sherlock pushes into Greg, his hole pleasurable tight. Both men moan at the sensation before Sherlock begins to thrust in and out. "Fuck, Sherlock!... oh god!" Greg managed as Sherlock pounded eagerly into the older man.

"Greg… mm… soo good, so tight." Sherlock moved to kiss Greg sloppily, and taking his length in his hand. Greg moaned as Sherlock slowly rubbed at his cock, feeling his release build up inside of them. The tension from the day mixed with their arousal, building to a quick release.

"Sherlock… gonna… come" Greg managed as Sherlock continued to plough into him and simultaneously stroke his length.

That was it, Greg was coming all over his stomach and Sherlock's hand. Sherlock seeing Greg undone followed not far behind Greg, continuing in sloppy thrust and eliciting a string of curse words as he came inside his boyfriend.

Sherlock collapsed on top of Greg, rolling to the side to pull out of him, Greg moaning.

Despite their dishevelled state, both men fell asleep on the couch, sticky and hazy from their round of impromptu sex.

* * *

><p>Greg lay curled around Sherlock warm and content when his phone rang. Greg rolled over and blearily reached for it. "Yes?" Greg said half asleep.<p>

"Sir we've lost the trail of the next victim."

Greg sat up suddenly awake. "What do you mean you've lost the trail of the next victim? Sherlock said look for a church in close proximity to water with a connection to the illuminati, could it be any easier?"

Sally sounded nervous over the phone, "Sir, we have officers stationed around churches and bodies of water, but we've got nothing." Greg looked over at Sherlock who was still sleeping soundly. He slipped out of bed carefully, still on the phone to Sally.

"Have you possibly overlooked a location of water?"

"No sir, we have all bodies of water near a church staked out"

Greg sighed, "thank you Sally, keep me updated," he hung up.

Greg got ready for work; he left a note for Sherlock and left the flat.

* * *

><p>Sherlock woke some time later, he saw a note from Greg, and having read the note and made himself some breakfast, he tried to puzzle out the case. It was intricate and complicated. When he had first glanced at the case it had seemed so simple, but the latest potential victim was confusing him. They would clearly be found by a body of water, but where? He sprang up, grabbing a map and plotting the locations of each murder around London looking for a pattern. He saw it. A cross. The murders made a cross. He could deduce the location of the next murder from the pattern that the other killingd made. He rang Greg, "Inspector Lestrade."<p>

"Greg it's me, I have the location of the next murder."

"How soon can you get here?"

"On my way," Sherlock got dressed and ran out of Greg's apartment, hailing a cab.

Greg met him outside Scotland Yard, "What have you got?"

"I worked out the pattern the murders follow, it's a cross. A Christian cross."

Greg hurried with Sherlock to his office where the map was laid out and examined. Sherlock pointed out a large fountain, "This location fits, station some officers and you should be able to catch the killer."

Greg nodded and his team was dispatched to the location, Sherlock tagging along behind them in a cab, eager to see the person responsible arrested.

When the cab pulled up, Sherlock threw some notes at the cabbie and bolted out of the cab, running towards the scene, "What's happened?"

"He's alive," Greg replied as Sherlock ran over to the man, he was alive and shivering. His hands and feet had been tied to a chair and he had been thrown into the deep fountain.

"Could you tell us where he had you?"

The man muttered one word: _light_.

Sherlock huffed off when he realised he was not going to gain any more information from the sopping wet victim. He stood on the sidelines and watched Greg talking to some officers, deciding to return to the flat and work out the meaning of _light._

Back at the flat, Sherlock sat perched on the couch with his hands held in a prayer position beneath his chin.

_Light_.

_Light_.

_Light_.

_Light_.

He repeated it over and over, trying to derive some meaning from the singular word.

_Light_.

_Illuminati._

_Church._

_The church of illumination. _He knew that such a place existed in Rome, but where in London. He consulted his mental map, before grabbing the physical forms and sprawling them over the coffee table.

He looked at the maps. All murderers had a radius around the kill sites where there was a "safe zone", he just had to work out where this particular killers was. He looked intently at the map.

_The murders were in a cross, but to get them all there the killer would need underground passages._ _There were many disused underground tunnels running over quite a lot of London including an old underpass at Kingsway and a tunnel running parallel to the tower bridge. There is a distinct possibility that the murderer used any number of disused passageways and underground tunnels to deposit the bodies. _

Sherlock found Greg's computer and began researching the underground around London, thinking this would surely give him fuel to find the killer.

* * *

><p>More to come soon! I'm working and my co-author is at school, so apologies for any delays!<p>

R&R please!

**littleredfez & luvmyangelofmusic**


	10. Chapter 10

_Sorry for the delay! Work and school have been getting in the way unfortunately. Hope this is what you want _

* * *

><p>Sherlock had been searching Greg's computer for hours. He had found something that looked promising but decided to wait for Greg to return so he could discuss it with him. The map was sitting on the table still and Sherlock removed himself from the lounge and walked over to it, eyeing it intently. Logically, the next element in the series would be fire, but he had to figure out where you could discretely place something of such magnitude in modern London. Sherlock muttered to himself, "come on show me where you are!"<p>

He heard the front door open, not turning to acknowledge Greg.

"Any ideas?"

"Yes, but I just don't know where they would be situated! The next murder will have to be related to fire, but how can you be discrete with fire in modern London?"

Greg looked at the map and pointed to a spot near the large Waterloo Station.

"I went to this gig once, long while back, in the tunnels underneath Waterloo Station. If I remember correctly, the Necropolis Train used to run along this line, the tunnels providing storage for exhumed bodies waiting to be transported to Brookwood Cemetary. They ran an underground service for many years. There's a direct route from there to the crematorium at Brookwood. You wouldn't even have to surface in order to access it."

Sherlock looked round at the map, why could he not have thought of this! A crematorium made perfect sense!

"Thank you Greg. If we hurry, we might be able to catch this guy!" Sherlock grabbed his coat and pulled on his scarf, waiting impatiently for Greg to follow him. Greg followed Sherlock out the door and into the police car as they sped off to the crime scene.

They pulled up at the entrance to the tunnels, Greg drawing his gun and making his way out of the car. If he was correct, it would be somewhere in the disused section of the underground tunnels. Not only could they potentially find the killer, but perhaps his secret lair, as Greg liked to think of it. Sherlock made to follow him but Greg stopped held his hand up to him, "Wait till I give you the all clear."

Sherlock huffed, "really!" but he saw the look on Greg's face and recoiled. Greg proceed slowly into the disused tunnels, making his was to where the train would've stopped to deposit bodies at the crematorium. The lock was not broke, which suggested to Greg that the killer had access to the disused tunnels, or knew someone who did, and that the man had enough historical knowledge to know, not only this deep cut line, but many others which had been abandoned during the twentieth century.

Greg gestured for Sherlock to follow, with the long walk to through the tunnels; it could prove difficult if Greg did not have back-up of some sort.

It took them roughly half an hour to navigate their way through the disused tunnels and to the tunnels surrounding the crematorium. It had been recently used, the change in temperature notable as they moved closer.

Greg gingerly opened the door to the furnace, revealing a partially blackened body. Considering the age and length of disuse of the crematorium, Sherlock was unsurprised that the body was not fully burned, but thoroughly annoyed that the killer had got away. It was highly likely that he killer was still lurking in the underground tunnels, planning his next move.

As they made their way to go back to the car and call in forensics, Sherlock stopped to look the scene over once more. On the ground, covered in the dirt and dust is a piece of paper. It's a note, and something different to what the murderer has done before. _Maybe he is looking to be caught?_

He picked up the piece of paper and acknowledged the typed note, _the ink can be analysed – no it won't come up recognisable_. The note has been typed on the reverse of the title page to 'Angels and Demons'. _How boring_, Sherlock thinks to himself before realising he said it out loud, Greg giving him a strained look.

"What?" Greg looked at him as if he was alien

"The murderer has directly referenced his source. How boring. It's clear what his moves will be. Textbook murder." Sherlock is suddenly bored, the case no longer providing the interest it had before.

"That's it? It's boring, so you give up?" Greg was very taken aback.

"I'm sure it won't be difficult now. How many people have access to disused underground stations and deep cut tunnels, share an interest in trains and are fanatic about the illuminati and other such, _trivial_ beliefs. I'd suggest scouring all disused tube stations and tunnels. He'd be living relatively near, or in them, with access to Internet and other such resources. The fact that he has this access, suggests he is either part of underground workers or heritage workers. I'd say that's enough to go on, wouldn't you?"

"Done then? You'll just go back to my flat whilst I search for the killer?"

"I don't see what else I can do. This case just got boring." Sherlock wanders into the dark of the tunnels, winding back to exit. "I'll get a cab."

* * *

><p>Lestrade makes it back to his flat quite late that evening, or quite early the next morning. Either way, he was looking forward to the little sleep he could get before he headed back into the Yard in about four hours time. He walked towards the bedroom, now his and Sherlocks, but noticed that nothing had been touched, and Sherlock wasn't in the bedroom either. He hadn't come home.<p>

Panic ripped through him as he remembered the last time he was away, the drugs. But other than texting Sherlock, there wasn't much left to do, especially at this time in the morning. He pulls his phone from his pocket, hands shaking as he types out a message.

**Where are you? Are you alright? – GL**

He waited an hour and a half for a reply, before sending a short text (**Please be okay Sherlock. – GL**) and going to bed.

* * *

><p>After three hours of sleep, the situation didn't look much better to Lestrade. No reply from Sherlock, and he had to be at work to try and wrap up this case. He dragged himself out of the bed and into the ensuite bathroom, looking at his tired face in the mirror, hair everywhere and yesterdays clothes hanging dishevelled from his well-built frame. As much as he wanted to worry about Sherlock, he had a killer to find.<p>

Lestrade showered and dressed in fresh clothes, before leaving the house, picking up his wallet, phone and some change to buy a coffee and bagel on the way to work.

He pulls the front door closed and turns around, only to be confronted by a man standing before him, umbrella in hand and dressed in a bespoke tailored suit.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade. Mycroft Holmes." He held out a gloved hand, which Greg took as realisation washed over him.

"Yes, we met briefly before, when Sherlock was… um… ill. Sorry, why are you here? Sherlock isn't here at the moment." Lestrade really just wanted to get to work, not have to deal with Sherlock's older brother.

"That's exactly the reason I am here Detective Inspector." Mycroft's pleasant smile turning into a furrowed brow and inquisitive frown. "It appears that Sherlock did not leave the tunnels last night."

* * *

><p><em>Yes, I'm that horrible that I left a semi-cliffhanger. And I also introduced Mycroft. Will Sherstrade be long lived? Let me know what you think. And please fill free to give criticism on our characterization.<br>_

**littleredfez & luvmyangelofmusic**


	11. Chapter 11

_He pulls the front door closed and turns around, only to be confronted by a man standing before him, umbrella in hand and dressed in a bespoke tailored suit. _

_ "Detective Inspector Lestrade. Mycroft Holmes." He held out a gloved hand, which Greg took as realisation washed over him._

_ "Yes, we met briefly before, when Sherlock was… um… ill. Sorry, why are you here? Sherlock isn't here at the moment." Lestrade really just wanted to get to work, not have to deal with Sherlock's older brother._

_ "That's exactly the reason I am here Detective Inspector." Mycroft's pleasant smile turning into a furrowed brow and inquisitive frown. "It appears that Sherlock did not leave the tunnels last night."_

* * *

><p>The colour drains from Greg's face. "What?" he manages to choke out.<p>

"My brother, your paramour, did not leave the tunnels last night. I have checked all the CCTV footage surrounding the tunnels and throughout the areas he usually inhabits, but there was nothing."

"Oh god, I just assumed he was wandering the streets, thought he'd return this morning." Greg cards his fingers through his hair, growing more concerned by the minute. "There's endless tunnels under London, how on earth will we find him? That's assuming he's been kidnapped by our killer, not some other evil villain seeking revenge." He looks at Mycroft.

"Well I have informed Scotland Yard that they should continue their lines of enquiry with regards to the killer, based on the trail you discovered in the tunnels last night. You and I shall make our way back to the tunnels and search for Sherlock." And with that, a black Jaguar pulls to the curb, "after you, Detective Inspector."

Lestrade gets into the car, moving to the farthest side of the back seat, "so how do you think we'll find him in the expanse of those tunnels Mr. Holmes? I have no access to the plans." Greg is confused, but sure Mycroft has it all planned out.

"Please, call me Mycroft. I know these tunnels well, and I have consulted the plans. Sometimes my wealth of knowledge is a great help. I'd suggest that the murderer took Sherlock along the tunnels running under Waterloo station to a makeshift shelter. The closest disused station is at Charing Cross, which provides not only a terminus, but also many shafts which he could secret himself away in. Shall we begin there?" Mycroft turns to his side to look at Greg.

Greg was shocked, and impressed. Did he expect any less from the brother of his crazy consulting detective? "Well, Mycroft, that sounds like a plan. I can see the brains run in the family then? But perhaps not the attitude." Greg smiles, "or for that matter the morbidity? Correct me if I am wrong."

Mycroft chuckles, "why thank you Detective Inspector. Yes, Sherlock seems to ignore even basic manners, hasn't changed since he was a child. And he is a bit cold when it comes to emotional matters, with regards to cases and such. It shocked you when he left you in the tunnel. Are you not used to him getting bored?"

"Yes, it did shock me. He just upped and left, said the murderer was boring and he wasn't needed any longer. He's been cold, but he's never done that before."

Mycroft didn't say anything, just hummed in approval as the car pulled up outside Charing Cross station. "This is it" he opened the car door, and Greg followed. Mycroft produces a set of keys secreted away in his breast pocket and opens a locked metal door.

"This should lead directly to the old shafts and stairwells which were part of the of Charing Cross station. I suspect we will find Sherlock, possibly the murderer."

The door creaks open and the distinct smell of must wafts from the maintenance stairwell. They make their way forward and down the shallow steps, Greg obediently following the tailored shadow of Mycroft. The eventually reach an abandoned platform, tiles dirtied with soot and dust, and a distinctively eerie feel surrounding the abandoned station name and train line.

"We cannot access the old stairwell from here, but if we follow that tunnel along the tracks, we will come to it about a quarter of a mile down the tunnel." Mycroft elegantly jumps down between the tracks, "coming?"

Mycroft looks up to Lestrade who is still standing on the platform, lost in thought. "What? Oh, yes of course." He jumps down, less elegantly than Mycroft, "lead the way."

Five minutes later they reach a small metal door, and Mycroft produces the keys once again, "Sherlock should be through here." He jerks the door open, confronted with a gust of cold air coming from the circular chamber, the shadow of a man lying limp on the floor. Greg is blocked from the view by Mycroft's slight form, and is startled when Mycroft abandons his composure and rushes over to the limp form. "Christ, Sherlock!" Mycroft mutters harshly. "What've you got yourself into this time?"

Greg joins Mycroft by Sherlock's side, Mycroft's concern evident in his expression. "Is he alright?" Greg asks, although regretting the baseness of the question.

"He appears to have been drugged, I'd hazard a guess at chloroform. They would have given it using a spray, in a perfume bottle of sorts. Enough to knock them out or possibly induce coma. I'd say he's been out for about eight hours judging by when you left him, they must've given him a large dose, one hundred mils at the least." Mycroft cradles Sherlock's head, keeping his index finger on his pulse.

"I shouldn't have let him go, not with me knowing there's a killer on the loose."

"Well, that has been solved."

Greg looks at Mycroft quizzically, "I haven't had a call from the team yet, is there something you'd like to mention Mycroft?"

Mycroft nods towards the doorway on the far side of the stairwell, a crumpled figure lying against it. "I think we may have found your killer, Detective Inspector."

Greg, reluctantly, gets up from his position next to Sherlock's limp form and makes his way over to the body slumped against the doorframe. "Looks like suicide to me," Greg says blandly. "I'll have to wait on forensics to get a COD on it. I need to call it in, call off the search." Greg pulls his phone from his trouser pocket, "and of course I don't have reception!"

Mycroft extends his hand, "here, mine should work, even down here."

Greg walks back and plucks the sleek Blackberry from Mycroft's hand, "thanks."

"Donovan, its Lestrade. We've found the murderer… Charing Cross station… yes… there's a disused door, should be unlocked. Take that down to the platform, take the tunnel to the right and you'll come across a door about a quarter of a mile down the tunnel…. Yep… we're in there. We'll need forensics…. No, not for the victim, the murderer committed suicide." Lestrade hangs up and gives the phone back to Mycroft, "thanks."

"It's quite alright." Mycroft takes the phone and sends a quick message.

"I'm going to have to stay here," Greg says, regret in his tone. "Can you get Sherlock back to my flat?"

"Of course. I've already got a car waiting outside. Are you sure you're okay one your own? I just want to get Sherlock out of here, before he gains consciousness. God knows we'd have trouble getting him out of there then." Mycroft smiles as he gets up from his position of the floor.

"Yes, we would rather." Greg chuckles, concern seeping through into his expression.

Greg watches as Mycroft bends to pick up Sherlock's limp body, hefting him into a bridal hold. _Like his brother_, Greg thinks, _looks like he could snap in half, but has surprising strength._

"You sure you're okay with carrying Sherlock back up to your car?" Greg doesn't want to appear he's neglecting to help.

Mycroft twists his body to look Greg in the eyes, "quite fine, thank you."

Greg watches as Mycroft walks out into the dark tunnels.

Fifteen minutes later the rest of Greg's team arrives.

"Well done then!" Donovan says as she pats Greg on the shoulder. Greg shows a weak smile, "thanks."

"What's wrong boss? Not that freak again is it?" Donovan smile.

"Yes, actually, it is him. The murderer drugged him before he committed suicide."

"Right, well I think in that case you should go home, hmm?" Donovan gives him a push towards to small door, shaking her head.

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><p>Sherlock begins to wake just as Mycroft is carrying him into Greg's bedroom, having taken the set of keys from Sherlock's trouser pocket to open the front door.<p>

"Mycroft," Sherlock says groggily, blinking rapidly trying whilst to ascertain where he is.

"Welcome back my dear brother, you have been out for quite some time." He lays Sherlock down on the double bed, sitting of the edge beside him. "I was worried, unsure how much chloroform that horrible man administered. How are you feeling?"

"Could be better, but nothing I haven't experienced before." Sherlock gives Mycroft a dirty look. "Why are you here anyway? I haven't seen you in months," Sherlock spits like a petulant child.

"I came to find Greg when I found you hadn't returned home yesterday evening. He was very concerned to say the least. We found you in Charing Cross station in an abandoned stairwell. The murderer had committed suicide."

Sherlock looked at his brother with a bored expression, "how predictable!" he huffed.

"No wonder Detective Inspector Lestrade was upset, I judge he has never seen you this temperamental about a case before. You want to play your cards right Sherlock, otherwise you'll be having to find somewhere else to live." Just as Mycroft finishes his sentence, Greg comes through the front door, Sherlock and Mycroft hearing his rushed footfall as he makes his way to the bedroom.

"Oh god Sherlock, I was so worried." Greg drops his keys and phone on the end of the bed before giving Sherlock a hug.

"Nothing to worry about, I was perfectly fine!" Sherlock pulls back from the hug crossing his arms across his chest. Mycroft gives him a strong look.

"You were unconscious is a disused tube station, how is that being perfectly fine!" Greg throws his hands in the arm, "for Christ sake!" he storms out of the room.

"Well done my dear brother." Mycroft says with a caustic tone as he removes himself from the bed and follows Greg.

"I apologise for my daft brother, he clearly doesn't have a clue when he has something good in his grasp."

Greg runs his hands through him hair as he sits on the couch, staring at the floor. "I don't know how long I can put up with this Mycroft. It was fine when we started out, I guess because he was so vulnerable. But now he's healthy and helping me out with investigations he's becoming unbearable. We haven't had sex in weeks!" Greg's eyes go wide and he drops his head into his hands, a flush creeping up his neck, "oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"It's quite alright Detective Inspector. Why don't we go out to lunch, you look like you need something to eat. Sherlock can look after himself, I'm sure he will want to sleep despite himself."

Greg looks up in surprise, "yeah, that would be good. I need to talk to someone about Sherlock; I'm at a loose end with him. Oh, and it's Greg by the way."

"Come then _Gregory_, we'll go and get something to eat."

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><p><strong>littleredfez &amp; luvmyangelofmusic<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

_NB: Wanted to get this finished ASAP for you guys so it hasn't been beta'd. Hope it's okay!_

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><p>"<em>It's quite alright Detective Inspector. Why don't we go out to lunch, you look like you need something to eat. Sherlock can look after himself, I'm sure he will want to sleep despite himself." <em>

_Greg looks up in surprise, "yeah, that would be good. I need to talk to someone about Sherlock; I'm at a loose end with him. Oh, and it's Greg by the way."_

"_Come then _Gregory_, we'll go and get something to eat."_

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><p>Mycroft walks Gregory, still rather rattled by Sherlock's comments, to a Pret down the road from Lestrade's flat, grabs two sandwiches, two lattes and sits them down in a quiet corner of the café, well as quite as it can be at peak meal time.<p>

"Are you alright Gregory?" Mycroft asks as he takes out his chicken and avocado sandwich.

Greg looks up from his untouched ham and pickle sandwich, "no, I don't think I am." He's trying very hard not to burst into tears, clearly the last thing he would want to do in public _and_ in front of Mycroft Holmes.

"I'm here so you can talk to me Gregory. I understand what Sherlock can be like and I will do everything in my power to right this mess my brother has made. But I need to understand." He takes a bite from his sandwich and looks to Greg.

"Right. Well I guess I should start with what happened last night. That was really what made me upset."

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><p>Sherlock lay in bed after Greg and Mycroft had left, drifting in and out of consciousness. He could still feel the after effect of the excessive amount of chloroform used to knock him out, numbness still in his limbs and his senses anything but sharp. Before he fell into a deep slumber, he was thinking of the events had passed, how he supposedly upset Greg, the kidnapping, waking up to find Mycroft staring down at him and, lastly, his hasty reaction to Greg's concern. He felt regret over the things he said to Greg. Everything about how boring the murderer was to the fact that he was perfectly fine, when clearly, he wasn't. As much as he tried to be his true self around Greg, sometimes he would keep these remarks so as not to rile anger in Greg and his team of officers. But other times, he felt how <em>bored<em> he was, and seemed unable to control the stings of insensitive words which came flowing from his bow shaped lips. It had happened before, they were working on a case involving missing children and Sherlock had taken a particularly impersonal view. He'd said something about the stupidity of the parents, allowing their children to wander the park on their own at the age of seven and four. Greg had just looked at him, confused eyes, and moved on. Clearly, his outburst last night and then this morning was the last straw. _Well_, Sherlock thought as he was drifting of, _maybe I'll have my senses back when I wake again, and I can sort this whole thing out._

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><p>"Well it sounds like Sherlock is just being his usual intolerable self. I'm sorry that this has only come out after three months of living with him. Having said that, I am surprised he has been able to remain well spoken for such a period of time. You do realise that this has never happened? He has never cared for someone, never sacrificed his impersonal deductions and remarks for the happiness of someone other than himself. He just needs to wake up to the fact that if he doesn't watch his tongue on occasion, he will lose someone who has made his life so much better." Mycroft finished off his sandwich and patted his mouth with the serviette. Greg was looking at him wide eyed.<p>

"Wow. I can't say it makes me feel any better, but at least I understand a bit better now. But you are right, I hope he can realise that he can't just say these things without a) explanation or b) valid reasoning. But as far as sex is concerned, god I don't know what to do. I mean when he's on a case he's so consumed, but the week before last he wasn't even remotely interested." Greg blushes, "god, I'm sorry. You don't want to hear about your little brother's sex life." Greg manages a strained laugh, shaking his head.

"No worry my dear Gregory. Even my dear, impersonal, brother has sexual urges he needs to fulfill. But as you would know, he does not often initiate these things."

Greg thinks to himself, _he's surely initiated some damn good things before, but Mycroft doesn't know that._

"I'm sure some blatant implication will sort that out." Greg goes violently red, "subtle implication is simply pointless, Gregory. He may be a genius, but he can be rather thick sometimes, especially when it comes to such things." Mycroft tuts and shakes his head before finishing the last of his, nearly cold, latte.

"Shall we take you back to your dear Sherlock?" Mycroft chuckles as he picks up his tray to empty it of rubbish.

"Yes, I guess we should before he suspects us of doing more than eating lunch!" Greg says with a wide grin. "Although after that dose of chloroform I'd hazard a guess that he's probably sleeping right now."

"Indeed very true, Gregory." Mycroft opens the door for Greg, and they begin the short walk back to 221B, making easy conversation.

When they return, Sherlock is fast asleep, wrapped up in the grey sheets and cuddling Greg's pillow. Greg walks into the room with Mycroft and over to Sherlock's sleeping form.

"He's so peaceful when he's sleeping," Greg passes comment.

"Ah, yes. If only he were like that during the day."

"Well, he wouldn't be Sherlock is he was that peaceful all the time." Greg whispered."

"A very good point, Gregory. As much as we speak to make him a better man, we do indeed love Sherlock's quirks, many which I share." Mycroft smiles at Greg, leaning on his umbrella near the door. "I shall leave you two in peace. I'm glad I could be of help to you, Gregory."

"You don't have to leave, Mycroft. You are more than welcome to stay for dinner, although I don't expect it will be anything special, probably take away or something. I don't expect Sherlock to be awake for quite some time."

Mycroft smiled; a little shocked that Greg would request his continued presence. "I would love to, but I believe I have duties to fulfil. I have already taken half a day off to sort out the mess my dear brother made, and I am afraid, despite the fact that I would take pleasure in spending the evening with you, that I cannot refrain from going to work. I do apologise. Some other time perhaps?" Mycroft slips a business card from his pocket, only the words _Mycroft Holmes_ and his personal number printed on the fine card.

Greg feels a little dejected that Mycroft cannot stay, but he supposes that in the same situation, he too would feel obligated to return to work. "Of course. I'm sorry to be such a hassle. You didn't need to take me for lunch or any of that. But I am grateful, believe me. When you have a spare moment, I would very much like to catch up. I like having someone to talk to about Sherlock."

"No hassle at all. And we shall keep in contact. I understand the need to talk to someone about Sherlock. He can be a handful." And with that, Mycroft shook Greg's hand and walked from the flat. "Good evening Gregory," he said as he walked out the door.

Greg plonked himself on the couch. He had sorely wanted company this evening but he could not detain Mycroft from his duties (whatever they may be) to spend time with his brother's lover. And he was sure Sherlock would not be too happy about it either, when he eventually woke up. Greg decided to settle down to watch some movies; he'd picked the Quatermass series of movies by Hammer films to cheer himself up a bit. He'd order in later, as it was only four in the afternoon, and maybe by seven or so Sherlock will have woken up.

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><p>By seven thirty, Sherlock had indeed woken up. He was groggy and slightly disoriented, wrapped tightly in the sheets and still clothed in his trousers and shirt, but felt better than he had that morning when he had woken from the drug induced state of unconsciousness. He thought better of going out to face Greg in his dirty clothing, instead grabbing some pyjamas and padding to the ensuite to have a shower. As he undressed he felt the strain in some of his muscles, where the murderer had clearly knocked him about a bit. He had deep purple bruises forms on him hips and knees and another on him shoulder. He hopped into the steaming shower and felt the burn in his muscles as the water poured over his battered body, scrubbing at his skin to remove the ingrained dirt and scent of the underground tunnels. Once satisfied he was clean, he turned off the stream of water and patted himself dry before slipping on a pair of flannelette pyjama pants and a grey t-shirt. He is hesitant to make his way into the living room, unsure of the state, which Greg might be him. After at least a minute of pondering possible scenarios, he decides that, either way, he would have to talk to Greg. Slowly, he makes his way out into the Living area where Greg is curled up on the couch, fast asleep, the television still blaring away.<p>

"Greg," he whispers softly as he sits next to him on the couch, gently rubbing circle on his back.

Greg wakes up and blearily greets Sherlock. It takes him a few moments to re-settle himself into what was going on. _That was right, I fell asleep watching _Quatermass _whilst waiting for Sherlock to wake up_. He realised he was very hungry, having put off ordering food until Sherlock re-awoke. "Fancy something to eat, Sherlock? Thought about getting some pizza and garlic bread… craving that food at the moment."

Sherlock nodded and went to fetch the menu and Greg's phone, which was sitting on the kitchen counter. Greg plucked the menu and phone from Sherlock's hands, perusing the menu and trying to make a decision, finally going with hot Americana pizza and garlic bread. "That should be here soon then. I hope your hungry. You should be after not having eaten for twenty-four hours at least." Sherlock shrugs and flops onto the couch.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" Greg ventures with a concerned tone, "with all that happened, the chloroform etcetera, are you sure you are okay? No shit this time, please…" Greg looks at him with pleading eyes, settling back down onto the sofa.

"I am truly fine Greg, a bit tired, but otherwise fine. But I am sorry, for my actions yesterday, today and over the last few weeks. You know I sometimes have no feel for emotions, so to speak." Sherlock seemed genuinely apologetic, and Greg was glad. He felt he deserved an apology, even if what he'd said and done was very typically Sherlock. He nodded his head, "good. Your brother and I thought as much." Sherlock scowled at the mention of his name.

Greg gave Sherlock a dirty look, "I know you have a _history_, but if it wasn't for him we wouldn't have found you. Anyway, let's not go into that. I don't want any smart remarks from you. I rather fancy some pizza, telly and then some fabulous make up sex, how does that sound?"

Sherlock frowned at the first part, but by the end of what Greg was saying, he found his jaw dropping in surprise. That was quite a blatant call for sex. But, after all, they hadn't had it on for a fortnight at least.

"I think that can be arranged," Sherlock said as he got up to fetch the pizza, the doorbell having rung only moments before. He payed the delivery boy and brought the pizza back into the living room, inhaling the scent of pepperoni and garlic bread. "This smells delicious Greg," Sherlock announced as he sat down right next to Greg on the couch, hogging to whole box of pizza. "Sherlock," Greg whines as he takes a slice of pizza out of the box and slowly eats it, moaning with every mouth full.

"You want some?" Sherlock mumbles, mouth full of dough, before fishing out another slice of pizza and handing it to Greg.

Greg laughs, "thanks."

Sherlock mumble through another mouthful, "you're most welcome."

They continue eating like this until the end up feeding each other pieces of pizza and garlic bread, Sherlock practically sitting on top of Greg, all concentration on watching the movies completely lost. But, at some point the food would run out, and by this point Sherlock was straddled across Greg's hips, grinding down on him whilst they shared slopping, garlic and pizza flavoured kisses. It didn't matter though, the lingering garlic and pepperoni taste, as both men were so desperate for each other, not able to get enough.

Inevitably, it all ended in the make up sex Greg had spoken of, Sherlock riding him long and hard and both men collapsing in a tangle of limbs on the couch, not willing to move a muscle, so consumed it a forgotten lust.

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><p><em>Sorry I didn't end it in a very descriptive sex scene, I've been a bit uninspired at the moment. I might come back and add it in later on. Will try and get another chapter up soon with quite a bit of angst so I do apologise in advance. Lets hope the plot bunnies form quickly!<em>

**littleredfez & luvmyangelofmusic**


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